


"Unexpected Circumstances"

by bwayfan25



Category: ER (TV 1994)
Genre: AU where Susan is awarded custody of Little Suzie, Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, F/F, Family Drama, Found Family, Slow Burn, Susan is a single mom, Who gets help from an unexpected source
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 125,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwayfan25/pseuds/bwayfan25
Summary: It seemed to good to be true. Six months had passed and still Chloe was nowhere to be found. Their court date had come and passed. Suzie was hers.Family AU where Susan is awarded custody of Little Suzie and her life is changed forever.





	1. Chapter 1

It seemed too good to be true. 

Well, not good per se. Good for her, yes. Good for Little Suzie,  _ definitely _ . But not good for Chloe or the future of her relationship with her daughter. A relationship which, in the next twenty minutes, would legally be transferred to Susan. 

She continued to look back and forth down the street in front of the courthouse, little Suzie gripped tightly in her arms. Her heart seized painfully every time she spotted a white woman with dark hair within a block of her. 

“Susan,” said a male voice from behind her.

Susan turned, releasing Suzie ever so slightly at the sight of her father Henry. 

He had on a coat and tie and even though most of his shirt was hidden underneath the jacket and coat, she could tell he was sweating heavily under the collar. His eyes lit up when he saw both his daughter and his granddaughter, but there was still a great deal of sadness in them. 

Susan knew why, of course. Though he had taken on grandpa duties more in the last few months and both he and Susan were happy about the new aspect of their relationship, there was still a daughter missing from the equation. And today, she would be taken out of the equation in not only the eyes of the family, but in the eyes of the state too. 

“I’m glad you came,” Susan said, her voice far quieter than she had expected it to be. 

“Of course I came,” Henry replied. He put a hand on her shoulder, unsure of whether he was steadying her or himself. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Susan opened her mouth to say something but, fearing no words would come out, she closed it again and just nodded. 

Henry greeted little Suzie and accepted Susan’s handing her off. As he turned his attention to his granddaughter, Susan took a deep breath and checked her watch.

“We should probably get heading inside.”

It was Henry’s turn to take a deep breath. He adjusted his grip on Suzie and followed Susan inside. 

They made their way in the large doors. The attendant at the front desk then led them further into the building, past wood paneled offices and hearing rooms. 

Finally, after it seemed like they had walked forever through the labyrinthine building, the young man guiding them opened a large wooden door and held it open for them to enter. Susan led with Henry in tow. 

“The Honorable Judge Henrietta Sauer,” the young man introduced as Susan and Henry took seats opposite an imposing older woman. 

“Thank you Trevor.”

The young man nodded, trying to hide the way his eyes lit up a little to be called by name, as he ducked out the door, closing it behind him.

“Alright. The court stenographer will be in in just a moment,” Judge Sauer informed them. She straightened out the papers in her hand.

Susan, Henry, and little Suzie waited in silence (or in Suzie’s case  _ near _ silence) for a few minutes before a short woman carrying a typewriter backed in through the door. 

“So sorry, your Honor,” the woman apologized as she sat down at the table and arranged her materials, “but Judge McLucas was running really behind.”

“Yes, well Jonas never really did learn how to tell time, I’m afraid,” Judge Sauer said with a sigh. “I’ll give you a minute to set up Lena.”

“All set to go whenever you are,” the stenographer said, giving the judge a thumbs up. 

“Wonderful.” Judge Sauer folded her hands on the desk. “My name is Judge Henrietta Sauer and we are here today for the custody proceedings of Susan Lewis who is requesting full custody over her biological niece, uh, _ Suzie _ Lewis.”

The Judge raised her eyes from the paper she read from to Susan, who smiled sheepishly. 

“My sister named her after me.”

“I see. Well, we are here because the law requires six months to pass before you can claim abandonment. As that time has now passed, we are able to proceed with the custody hearing.”

Susan nodded stiffly. She knew the only reason that the judge was repeating this was for the official record, but there was still part of her that felt this was all a big set-up. She was going to sit through all this just to get Suzie taken away from her.

“Now,” the judge continued, breaking Susan from her thoughts, “do you currently know where your sister is?”

“I do not.”

“Have you been contacted by your sister at all in these last six months?”

“Yes, I have, your Honor,” Susan said. “Chloe sent a card at Christmas. It had money in it and a note that… that implied the money was meant for me in return for taking care of Su- her daughter.”

Susan could feel her father’s eyes boring into her from beside her, but she didn’t dare look at him. She was suddenly unsure if she had told him about the card or the $3,000 inside it that she had used to pay Suzie’s daycare debt and start a college fund .

“Was there a return address on this card?” 

“There was not, your Honor.”

“And was there any indication in this card of Chloe’s intention to return and resume caring for her daughter?”

Susan took a deep breath.

“No, your Honor. There was not.”

The judge sat up straighter. She adjusted a paper on the table and then turned her attention to Henry.

“Sir, would you please state your name and relationship to the child in question.”

“Henry Lewis,” Henry replied slowly. “And I’m, uh, Suzie’s grandfather. And Chloe and Susan’s father.”

“Thank you. Now, Mr. Lewis,” the judge began, interlacing her fingers on the table once again. “You said that you are father of both the biological mother as well as the woman seeking custody of the child. Have you been involved in the care of Suzie since she was born?”

“Uh, well, we were… we were there. We visited,” Henry said, his tone unsure. “But it wasn’t until Chloe left Suzie with her sister that we, well, I mean  _ I _ starting helping out.”

“And when you say ‘helping out’, what do you mean by that?” the judge asked. Her intense gaze disarmed him. “Do you provide financial resources to Susan for the care of Suzie?”

“No, no,” Henry said, shaking his head. “Susan’s a doctor. She makes much more money than us. No, I help out some when Susan has to work overnight.”

The judge glanced quickly between Henry and Susan before looking back to Henry.

“You keep saying ‘us’ and ‘we’, Mr. Lewis,” the judge pointed out. “Who is this ‘us’ to which you refer?”

Henry let out a large sigh.

“I mean me and my wife, your Honor.”

“You and your wife,” the judge repeated. “Let the record show that your wife is not here at the proceedings with you. Could you please explain  _ why _ your wife is not here with you today?”

“She, uh…She’s not too big on the whole ‘grandma’ thing,” Henry said. He swallowed, shifting in his seat and then, as if an afterthought, added, “at all. She wasn’t too interested when it was Chloe and she’s not that interested now. With Susan, I mean.”

The judge nodded, taking this into consideration. She scribbled a note on her legal pad and then looked back to Susan, who had all but stopped breathing.

“Miss- I’m sorry, I mean Dr. Lewis,” the judge said, correcting herself, “you currently employed, correct?”

“Yes, your Honor.” Susan nodded. “I’m a resident in emergency medicine at County General Hospital.”

The judge scribbled another note.

“As I understand it, Dr. Lewis, residents often have to work long and unpredictable hours,” the judge stated. “Is that correct?”

“Yes, your Honor. But I’ve been working with hospital staff to ensure that I can be available for Suzie and do what’s best for her. Adjusting my workload and hours and all that.”

Susan knew it wasn’t  _ exactly _ a lie (and definitely not enough to be considered perjury), but she also knew it wasn’t the whole truth either. Mark would support her, and maybe even Morgenstern too, but there was no way in  _ hell _ Kerry Weaver would be willing to cut her slack on this. Even asking would probably result in ammunition Kerry could use against her at some point.

“Well,” the judge said, snapping Susan out of her thoughts, “seeing as Chloe Lewis has not made any meaningful attempts at reunification in the past six months, that you have been caring for Suzie since her biological mother left, and that you have demonstrated both the financial and social support necessary to provide for Suzie, I hereby grant you, Susan Lewis, full custody of Suzie Lewis. Effective immediately.”

Susan let out a large breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. The corner of the judge’s mouth twitched into something resembling a smile. 

“It can’t be  _ that _ much of a surprise, can it?”

“No, it isn’t...” Susan said with a slight chuckle. Suzie replied with a giggle of her own. “....but  _ God _ does it feel good to hear.”


	2. Chapter 2

Susan signed the paperwork, had her picture taken with her father, Suzie, and the judge, and soon found herself and her father standing outside of the courthouse once again. When she checked her watch, she found that only about an hour had passed. 

“That wasn’t that bad, was it?” Susan asked rhetorically, before looking to her father. “I mean, I’ve been worrying over it for weeks,  _ months _ even, and it was over that fast.”

“I’m really proud of you, Suze,” Henry said. 

He pulled Susan (and by extension little Suzie) into a bear hug. It lasted just a moment longer than it usually would have, and Susan knew it had to be due to the fact that he needed just another moment to hide the pain on his face. 

“I’m sorry your mom wasn’t here,” he said as they broke apart. “I think she’ll… I’m  _ hoping _ she’ll be better about this-”

“Me too,” Susan said, cutting him off. “But I’ve got you. And that’s really great.”

Her words seemed to abate his guilt slightly, but not entirely. 

“How about we go celebrate?” Susan offered, adjusting Suzie higher on her hip. “You, me, and Suzie?”

Henry paused for a moment and then shook his head.

“Your mother’s going to want me home,” he said in a low voice. “But you should go celebrate. Here.”

Henry pulled his billfold out of his back pocket and took out a crisp twenty dollar bill.

“It’s not much,” he acknowledged, “but I figure it might get you a decent meal.”

“Dad, you don’t have to-”

“Please, Suze,” he said, handing the bill out to her. “Please.”

There was so much emotion in his voice that it took most of Susan’s control not to break down. Even as happy as she was adopting Suzie, she knew that this was just another in a long line of Chloe’s failures. And yet again, not even the best thing Susan could do could make up for the mistakes that led to this. 

Henry knew that this was the right thing to do. And Susan knew this was the right thing to do. But as great as it was, there was still an underlying edge to the whole affair that they both knew well as Susan cleaning up after Chloe’s mistakes. 

Had Susan not felt the same way herself, she’d have been hurt by how disappointed he looked. But she knew it wasn’t disappointment; it was grief. Grief, because they both knew the hardest truth about Susan taking custody of little Suzie was: maybe this time, Chloe really wasn’t coming back.

“I’ll come by in a few days,” Henry said as Susan took the money from him. “Call if you need anything, okay?”

He gave Susan and little Suzie another hug and turned without a word for the parking garage. 

Susan watched him for a moment, part of her wanting to chase him down and make him celebrate with her, but a bigger part of her knowing that he was going home to grieve. 

So instead, she took a deep breath and looked down at Suzie.

“How about it, Suzie?” Susan said in a high, cheery voice to the girl in her arms. “Do you want to go celebrate? Do ya?”

Suzie cooed in return, smiling and burying her face in Susan’s shoulder. Susan laughed and hugged Suzie tight. As she turned for the garage herself, she heard a high pitched beep from her pocket. 

“Oh, come  _ on _ .”

Pulling the pager from her pocket, she silently promised herself that if she saw Weaver’s number on the message, she would march right down to County and throttle the woman herself. But it wasn’t Weaver’s number. It was Mark’s.

_ SORRY BUT CAN YOU COME IN FOR A SEC? _

Groaning, she made her way back to her car. Once Suzie was settled in the car seat, she fished through her purse for a quarter to use at the nearby pay phone. It was only after she had sifted through every empty gum wrapper and old receipt at the bottom of her purse, did she remember she had done the same thing only a few days prior to fill the meter outside the Mommy & Me Playgroup.

Susan did not stop groaning the entire twenty-three minute drive from the courthouse to the ER.

When she finally made it to County, she made a beeline for the admit desk, Suzie in hand. 

“Randi,” Susan said loudly, “have you seen Mark?”

“I thought you were supposed to be off today,” Randi replied, ignoring her question. “Didn’t you have some custody thing or whatever?”

“Yes, I did.” Susan sat Suzie down on the counter of the desk. “We just got done.”

“And? How’d it go?”

Susan couldn’t help but let a big smile spread over her face. 

“It went great,” she said, beaming. “And I’d love to talk about it, but Mark paged me on my day off, so I’m legally obligated to tear him a new one first. Any idea where he might be?”

“Try the lounge.”

Susan muttered a word of thanks to the clerk, who in turn waved at Suzie as Susan picked her up and made for the lounge door. 

_ “SURPRISE!” _

Susan stood frozen in the doorway of the lounge as scrap paper confetti was tossed over her and Suzie. 

Almost the whole ER staff (save for Randi who had been planted at the desk to direct her) was in the lounge. They wore grins as broad as Susan’s had been just a moment ago. Carol and Haleh held a large banner with pieces of paper adorned with hastily drawn baby rattles covering up what Susan knew were graduation caps (as the banner had appeared at every med student graduation party for the last… ever).

In the middle of the crowd, Mark stood, smiling. 

“Your dad called, kind of broken up,” he explained, stepping forward. “He said he couldn’t stay to celebrate with you, but wanted your friends to do something for you.”

“And he called the ER…” Susan fought back the urge to choke up as she looked at the crowd of faces. “What does that say about my life?”

The crowd of ER staff burst into laughter and applause. Mark stepped forward and hugged her. When he released her, he stepped back, his arm around Susan’s shoulders. The noise died down as he raised a hand. 

“Susan, is there someone you’d like to introduce us to?”

Susan looked at him funny for a moment and then rolled her eyes. She looked back to the crowd who seemed to be anxiously awaiting her answer and smiled. 

“Uh, well, everyone,” she began slowly. She adjusted Suzie so she held her facing out towards the group. “I’d like you to meet Suzie… my daughter.”

A fresh round of cheers erupted from the group. Mark took Suzie from Susan as the group moved forward. 

Chuny was the first to reach her for a hug, but was quickly pushed out of the way by Carol, who had abandoned the banner to envelop Susan in a long embrace. 

When Susan had pulled her face out of Carol’s huge mass of curls, she could feel the tears escaping from her eyes. 

“Congratulations, Susan,” Carol said breathily, wiping away her own tears. “I’m so happy for you. And you should know that we ordered pizza for you which should be here soon.”

“You guys even ordered pizza?” Susan said, chuckling. “You really  _ do _ like me.”

“It’s just Papa John’s though,” Mark said, cutting in to pass Suzie over to Carol. “We don’t like you  _ that _ much.”

For a split second, Susan believed him. That was, until he cracked a mischievous smile, earning him a playful punch to the arm. Mark gave his best over dramatic look of pain he could. 

He looked like he might say something else when Malik appeared in the doorway with a stack of pizza boxes. Once he had placed the boxes on the counter, Susan was ushered to the front of the line. Before she had a chance to argue, she was holding a paper plate of deep dish cheese pizza. 

It didn’t take long for the plate to be empty again. But before she could check to make sure everyone had had some before going back for me, she felt a hand on her arm. 

“You wanna say something?” Mark asked in between bites of his own slice of pizza.

“What?” 

The little bit of surprise (and fear) in her eyes urged him to put a gentle hand on the small of her back and turn her back in the direction of the happy, chatty staff.

“Mark,  _ nooo _ ,” Susan whined, though she was smiling. “You surprised  _ me _ ! You can’t make me talk!”

The ER staff was with Mark though. As soon as Carter saw Mark push Susan forward, he shushed those around him. 

Susan looked back to Mark, shook her head one more time and then looked up at the ceiling for a moment, willing the tears not to start again.

“Alright.  _ Fine _ . I’ll say something, but I’ve got to make it quick, because Suzie needs to go take a nap.”

There were a couple snickers and chuckles, but they quickly died down as Susan took a deep breath.

“When I was- when the judge told me that she was giving me custody…” Susan smiled as there were a few more quiet cheers and applause. “When she said that she was giving me custody, she said that she thought I demonstrated the ‘financial and social support’ necessary to be a good caregiver for Suzie. And that is entirely because of you guys.”

Susan paused to breathe and blink back more tears. 

“Though I didn’t tell her that I went thousands and thousands of dollars in debt just for the chance to  _ work _ here,” Susan continued, to more chuckles, “I know that I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have Suzie if it wasn’t for all of you.

“You guys have helped me and guided me and, most importantly, you’ve had faith in me. I knew that going through with this was the right choice because I knew that if at any point you thought this  _ wasn’t  _ the right thing for me or for little Suzie, you would have told me. So, the fact that I got here means that you all trust that I made the right decision.”

Susan let out a shaky chuckle, before raising her hand to her mouth. 

“You guys are the best social support a girl could ask for,” Susan said slowly, no longer caring that her tears were now flowing freely. “And the best family too.”

At this, Mark pulled her into a big hug. The rest of the staff applauded and/or wiped their eyes too.

“Now I have to run away so you all don’t see me break down,” Susan joked quietly as Mark released her. 

“Nothing we haven’t seen before.”

Mark winked, earning him another punch. 

There were more hugs and more crying over the next few minutes before Jerry ducked back into the lounge from the hall. 

“Sorry to break up the party, guys, but paramedics are ten minutes out. Double impalement or something. Two guys fell on some rebar.”

There was a collective groan from the staff. They put down their plates, offered Susan well wishes and congratulations, and slowly filed out the door as they prepared for the trauma to arrive. Haleh passed Suzie back over to Susan as she left, muttering something about ‘not getting enough time with babies anymore’.

Mark clapped her on the shoulder before following the rest out, leaving Susan alone with Suzie. 

Or so Susan thought, at least. As she went to pick up Suzie’s diaper bag and grab some pizza to take home with her, she found none other than Kerry Weaver hanging back apart from the crowd. Susan hadn’t even noticed she was there, figuring the authoritative redhead had been running the board (and loudly complaining about it) in the absence of the other staff. 

Susan straightened up instinctively. She stood a solid three inches over the Chief Resident and at times had found that she could use her height to her advantage when they went toe-to-toe.

“Congratulations on winning your custody battle, Susan.”

“Thanks. Thoughit’s not much of a battle if your opponent never shows up.”

Kerry nodded in acknowledgment. For a moment, her focus was on the cup of punch (read: red Kool-aid a certain Dr. Ross had stolen from Pedes) she was swirling slightly in her left hand. Then she shrugged and looked up. 

“Still. It’s cause for celebration,” Kerry said. “You must be excited. And relieved, I’m sure.”

Suzie let out a gurgling cry. Both Susan and Kerry looked at her in time to see the one-year-old rub her eyes. Susan kissed Suzie’s forehead before adjusting the infant over her shoulder. As she started rubbing Suzie’s back, she looked back to Kerry. 

“Yes. I am.”

Kerry tore her eyes away from the baby and back to Susan, to whom she gave a small smile. 

“I wanted to ask you, since your here....” Kerry began. 

_ I swear to God, if she asks me to cover a shift tonight, I  _ will _ kill her. Right here, right now. _

“... if you’d like me to look into arranging a maternity leave for you.”

Susan blinked. 

“What?”

“Maternity leave,” Kerry repeated. “Typically it’s three months. Hospital policy doesn’t grant the same leave to adoptive parents, but if you wanted to take one, I’d be happy to work with Mark and Dr. Morgenstern to make sure that it doesn’t affect your residency in any way.”

Susan made a conscious decision to close her mouth instead of letting it hang open in astonishment. She stared at Kerry, disbelieving, for a moment before she laughed.

“Kerry… I don’t… I don’t think I qualify for maternity leave. Seeing as I didn’t carry her. I wasn’t pregnant.”

“No,” Kerry admitted, “but you  _ are  _ a new mom.”

Susan looked at Kerry for another moment before busying herself with the diaper bag and leftovers. When she had gathered everything, Kerry was still there, waiting for an answer.

“You’d… you’d really set that up for me?”

“If you want me to.”

Susan’s eyes narrowed without her consent, but Kerry didn’t appeared phased by it. 

“That’s… uncharacteristically kind of you.”

Kerry chuckled. 

“Despite popular belief, I’m not  _ completely _ evil, Susan.”

“Right,” Susan said slowly. “But still… why would you offer to do something so nice for me?”

Kerry looked back to her cup again. She gave herself a moment before looking back to Susan. 

“Because you deserve it. Because little Suzie deserves it.” Kerry took a deep breath, as if what she was about to say was incredibly difficult for her to admit. “We… we may have our professional differences, Susan, but… I’ve seen the way you’ve stepped up to take care of Suzie these last few months. You’ve shown yourself to be a- a really dedicated caregiver. And I know you’re going to make a great mother.”

Kerry gave (a shocked) Susan a small smile before the sound of sirens in the ambulance bay pulled them both back into the present. 

Kerry turned to the sink to dump out the remainder of her Kool-aid/punch out before she discarded the cup in the trash. She gave Susan another small smile in passing as she crossed for the door.

Susan’s eyes followed the other woman’s uneven steps across the room, the thought clicking in as Kerry reached the doorway.

“And why else?”

Kerry stopped, turning halfway back towards Susan, her brow raised.

“Hmmm?”

“And why else would you offer?” Susan said again. “What’s in it for you? Eager to have three months rid of me?”

Kerry took her time to answer and when she did, she avoided looking at Susan directly, instead either eyeing the doorjamb or her own shoes. 

“It’s a shame that adoptive parents are not always given the same rights as birth parents. Just because your family didn’t start the same way doesn’t mean it’s anything less or that you don’t deserve the same treatment and opportunities other parents are given.” Kerry took a deep breath and looked up at Susan.  “It wasn’t fair to my parents. But I can make it fair for you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Susan kicked a pile of wooden blocks out of the way as she made her way to the Pack ‘n Play.

“Okay, sweetie,” Susan said gently as she went to put Suzie down, “I’ll be right back, okay? Big Suzie just needs to go the bathroom for a second. Then I’ll come right back, I promise.”

Little Suzie remained quiet until the moment Susan set her down. The moment her bottom touched the ground, she erupted into a fresh round of someone-is-killing-me screams, which led Susan to scoop her back up.

“Come on, honey,” Susan said, bouncing Suzie up and down on her hip, “just give me  _ two _ seconds. Please? We can’t all wear diapers.”

There was a knock at the door. 

“Great.”

Susan made for the door, grumbling under her breath. 

“I swear if that’s you again, Richard, I will show you  _ exactly _ where you can stick that noise com- Oh… Kerry…”

Kerry smiled hesitantly. 

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“What? No, no. Just… just bonding and all that,” Susan replied.  “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I brought by some dinner for you. I figured you might have your hands full and could… It’s just that I typically try to bring by dinner when someone’s on… maternity leave.”

Well, this was new.

Kerry looked… uncomfortable. Like bringing Susan dinner broke some unspoken rule. She even seemed to shift uncomfortably in Susan’s presence, though that may have been due more to the large shopping bag in her hand and the fact that Susan’s apartment was on the third floor of a building with no elevator. 

“Oh. Well...Thanks,” Susan said, trying to sound more grateful than tired. “Do you… want to come in?”

Susan imagined she could hear the gears turning in Kerry’s head. On one hand, the other woman knew it was polite to accept the invitation (not to mention she could probably due with sitting down for a second), but on the other hand, crossing the threshold broke that unspoken boundary.

After a moment of consideration, Kerry nodded stiffly. Susan stepped out of the way to let her in. 

“Kitchen’s to the left,” Susan instructed.

Kerry nodded again. She sat the bag down on the table and scanned around the apartment for a moment, a move that made Susan’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

She was on the fifth day of her maternity leave and had barely had a moment to herself the entire time. Having (paid) time off to bond with Suzie was great and all, but it also showed her just how hard doing this on her own was going to be. She hadn’t the nerve to call her dad yet and she wanted to give herself the chance to try parenting solo before bringing in any backup.

“Sorry everything’s kind of a mess,” Susan said apologetically. “I meant to clean up, but Suzie’s been having a day.”

“Don’t apologize.” Though intended as a reassurance, the words couldn’t help but come out in Kerry’s Chief Resident voice. “I mean, you don’t have to apologize. I was just admiring your apartment. It’s very nice. I like the brick.”

“Thanks. It’s a nice little place,” Susan said, glancing around. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have warned you about the climb.”

At the implication of Susan’s words, Kerry stiffened, but she didn’t say anything. 

“Uh, have you eaten yet? I could heat it up for you if you’d like,” Kerry offered hesitantly. “Or if not, I can put it in the freezer. There’s instructions on the lid for reheating it.”

(Because of course there were.) 

Before Susan could reply, her stomach growled loudly. Suddenly aware of her body again, she remembered how badly she needed to pee. 

“Yeah, that would be great. Heating it up, I mean,” she said quickly. “But, uh, first, do you mind taking her for a second so I can go to the bathroom?”

Kerry didn’t have the chance to say anything before Susan was handing Suzie to her. 

“Sorry,” Susan said as she almost ran towards the bathroom. “Just give me one second.”

Kerry bit her tongue to prevent herself from the admonishment that came so naturally to her. 

Instead, she shook her arm out of her crutch and set it against the table. Pulling a chair out, she carefully lowered herself down and shifted Suzie onto her lap. She began talking to Suzie in her “baby talk” voice, chuckling at herself for how it came just as easy as the reprimand she was going to give just a second before. 

Suzie was so captivating that Kerry didn’t even notice the few minutes that passed before Susan returned from the bathroom, relieved in more ways than one.

“Sorry to have forced her on you but I  _ really _ needed to pee,” Susan said as she took a seat opposite Kerry at the table. “But she’s been having a day. Won’t let me put her down for a second without her screaming bloody murder. And I refuse to take her into the bathroom with me on principal.”

“Has it been like that the entire time?”

“No. Not really,” Susan said. “I don’t think she slept well last night. I know I didn’t.”

Kerry nodded.

“Is there someone you’d like me to call?” she asked as Suzie pushed herself into a standing position. “To come help out tonight?”

“Why?” Susan asked, her brow furrowing. “You’re already here. Why would you call someone else?”

Kerry didn’t say anything for a moment. Her eyes were fixed on Suzie, who bounced up and down happily.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to stay.”

Susan watched Kerry, her exhaustion revealing her frustration with the statement.

The woman in front of her had gone out of her way to set up maternity leave for her, despite the fact that they had not had a civil conversation in the seven months they’d worked together. And she’d come all the way to her apartment to bring her dinner, unprompted. 

Was this yet another power play? She does all the nice stuff now so she can cash in on it later? 

But if it was, why make it so complex? Why go through all the work to get the hospital agree to it  _ and _ tell Susan that she had been adopted  _ and  _ find out where she lived to bring her food?

Either Kerry was trying to break out of the boundaries she set for herself for interactions with her co-workers or this was the most elaborate ploy for blackmail Susan had ever seen.

Susan rubbed a hand over her face.

“Look,” she said with a sigh, “I am  _ way _ too tired to play games or beat around the bush or be bashful or whatever it is you’re playing at-”

Kerry opened her mouth to respond, but Susan shot her a look which stopped her.

“So, let’s just start over here, okay? You offered to help me and I accepted. You offered to help me again and I accepted it again. Let’s just assume that if you offer to help me and I accept it, that I  _ accept _ it. And let’s assume that if I decide I don't want your help, I will tell you that, and if don’t want you to stay, I am not above kicking you out of my house. Deal?”

Kerry continued to look at Suzie for a moment before she nodded. 

“Great. Now, did you put the lasagna in the oven?

“No, I didn’t get that far.”

“If you’ll keep her occupied-” Susan pointed at Suzie. “- I’ll put it in. You said instructions were on the lid?”

Kerry hummed her assent as Susan picked the shopping bag up from the table. 

“Wow. You brought a whole meal,” Susan stated, pulling out the lasagna as well a bowl of salad and a baguette. 

“I figured it could last you a few days. That way you won’t have to worrying about cooking.”

Susan let out a small sound of acknowledgement. Reading the carefully lettered instructions on the disposable casserole dish, she turned the oven on to 325 degrees F. 

“How’s the ER been the past couple days?”

“Pretty normal.” Kerry turned Suzie around so the girl could see her mom. “We’re really feeling your absence.”

Susan stiffened automatically. 

“You set this up, Kerry,” she said, her voice edged with warning, “you can’t take it back now-”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Kerry said quickly. “I just meant that we feel it. You not being there, I mean. The other residents just don’t keep up the same way.”

Susan relaxed and felt herself smirk as she slid the lasagna into the oven. When she stood up and dusted her hands off on her sweatpants, she could tell that Kerry was avoiding eye contact with her. That meant the compliment had been genuine. 

Well, Susan thought, maybe having Kerry over might not be such a bad thing. 

Susan quite liked the feeling of being in charge every once in a while.


	4. Chapter 4

At first, Susan thought that Kerry bringing dinner over was a one-time thing, but when the woman showed up at the same time a week later, Susan realized it might be a regular occurrence. She wasn’t going to complain, though, since she was rapidly approaching her wit’s end and having dinner brought to her once a week, even by Kerry Weaver, was welcome. 

The first couple dinners were awkward as neither woman really knew how to act around the other. But as they reached the end of May, and therefore the end of the first month of Susan’s maternity leave, the pair settled into a comfortable rhythm.

Kerry would arrive around dinner time with a prepared dinner ready to either reheat or drop off. She would then spend a little while playing with Suzie so Susan could take a break before the women would share dinner and Kerry would clean up the kitchen and leave. 

But as they neared the middle of June, Kerry showed up with dinner for the second time in a week. The same thing happened again the next week. By the end of July, she was visiting Susan and little Suzie multiple times a week.

The Friday before Susan was set to return to County, she laid on the couch, nearly asleep, when she heard the knock on the door. Having expected one of the unexpected visits, she had left the door unlocked, and sure enough, a moment later she heard the knob turn. 

“Susan?”

“In here,” Susan called in a loud whisper.

“Are you okay?”

She heard Kerry set a bag on the table before the familiar sound of her crutch clicking as she stepped forward to peer at Susan.

“Yeah,” Susan replied in the same whisper. “Suzie just fell asleep on my chest and I haven’t gotten up yet.”

Kerry nodded, her concerned expression softening at the sight of the mother and daughter lying on the couch together. 

As Kerry returned to the kitchen to begin heating up dinner, Susan slowly started adjusting Suzie so she laid on her shoulder. Holding her breath, she pushed herself up to a standing position. After a momentary head rush, Susan made her way to where she had moved Suzie’s crib into her bedroom and carefully laid the sleeping infant down inside it.

Kerry was unpacking the bag when Susan returned. It looked like tonight’s meal must be grilled cheese based on the number of fancy cheeses and cans of tomato soup laid out on the kitchen counter. 

“Need any help?” Susan asked, though she knew the answer. 

And sure enough, just as she had done every other time Susan had asked, Kerry waved her away. 

The redhead turned to finish unpacking the bag as Susan took a seat at the table. As she did so, she saw Susan pull a notebook, a few loose sheets of paper, and the Classifieds page from the  _ Tribune _ out from underneath it. 

“Not looking for another job, I hope?” Kerry said half-seriously as she pulled out a pan from a kitchen cabinet. 

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Susan muttered, shoving the loose papers into the notebook unceremoniously. “Apartment listings. I’ve spent most of the last couple days trying to figure out my budget.”

Kerry turned the burner on and then turned back to Susan, leaning against the counter for support.  She said nothing, but did raise an eyebrow in question.

“My landlord sent me a letter last week that he’s upping the rent next year. He wants over $2,000 a month, not counting utilities. It would be hard enough to afford just with my loan payments, but now with child care costs, it’s just not going to happen. So, I’ve been trying to figure out what to do next.”

Kerry nodded. As usual, she had leaned her crutch up against the table for use of both her hands. Susan couldn’t help but notice how odd it looked to see with both hands clasped in front of her. It didn’t even occur to her the relevance of thinking “as usual” with regards to Kerry’s habits in her house.

“Funny you should say that, actually. I wanted to discuss something work related with you. It may help.” 

Susan set her chin in her hand and motioned for Kerry to go on. 

“We’re in need of a new Chief Resident,” Kerry continued. “Mark really wants it to be you.”

“Mark wants it,” Susan repeated. “Which means you don’t.”

Kerry paused, considering her next words carefully.

“I didn’t,” she admitted, “but I’ve since changed my mind.”

“What?” Susan said challengingly. “We’re friends now and you haven’t seen me work in three months, so suddenly you’re my biggest fan?”

“Regardless of our… relationship,” Kerry replied, her tone unsure as she spoke the final word, “yes. Not having you around for three months has changed my mind. 

“Having had to spend the last three months working with every resident but you, I was shown exactly how far ahead of the pack you are. I feel like I’m constantly asking everyone whether they ordered this or they tested that-”

“And you’re saying that if I’m Chief Resident, you  _ won’t _ do that to me?”

Susan didn’t break eye contact with Kerry for a solid thirty seconds as the other woman thought about how to dig herself out of this hole. 

“I can’t promise that,” she said finally, “but not as much. And if I do, it would be… quality assurance. Checking your orders would be to make sure that what you’re setting the best example for the other residents. Checking their orders is to make sure they don’t kill any of their patients.”

Susan inhaled deeply, taking a moment to mull over Kerry’s offer. 

There was a part of her, the part eager to prove herself, that wanted to jump at the offer. But there was another,  _ louder _ part of her that didn’t want to do any more than she had to at work (or at anything else in her life).

“What’s in it for you?’

Kerry rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with a frustrated huff.

“Why do you ask me that  _ every  _ time that I offer to do something nice for you?”

“Because I’ve met you.”

She ran her hands over her face and then looked up at Kerry, who seemed pensive.

“Well…” Kerry began slowly, “Mark offered to support me as the new attending if I supported you as Chief Resident.”

Susan smirked and shook her head.

“But I would have done that anyway,” Kerry added quickly. “We were already talking about who would take over what role and he offered that before I could even offer your name. I accepted his offer because it was what I was going for anyways.”

“So, you would support me for Chief Resident even if you didn’t get the attending job?”

Susan felt a small twinge of triumph as she watched her ambitious woman in front of her prepare was Susan was sure was going to be a stammering lie. But instead, Kerry just closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. 

“Yes. I would support you for Chief Resident, even if I wasn’t offered a position in return.” Kerry picked at one of her fingernails. “There’s no better option.”

Suzie whimpered in her sleep from the other room. Susan rose to check on her and returned a moment later to find Kerry had turned back to the stove. As Susan resumed her seat, she glanced down at the notebook.

“Would there be a raise?”

Kerry didn’t turn back to face her, but Susan could see her nod.

“Ten to fifteen percent over what you earn now,” Kerry replied. “Not counting the increase you’d get for your fourth year anyway.”

Susan picked up a nearby pencil and turned to an open page in the notebook. She scribbled down the equations to calculate how much the raise would bring her. 

Finally, she sighed.

“Fine. I’ll take it. I’ll be the new Chief Resident.”

Kerry busied herself for a moment with flipping the grilled cheeses. Turning the burner down, she adjusted the pan on the stove and turned back to Susan, a small smile on her face.

“Great. I’ll let Mark know tomorrow. We’ll get everything taken care of for when you return. And I’ll make sure to block out some time the first time our shifts overlap so I can show you some of the administrative tasks you’ll be responsible for.”

Susan nodded, but couldn’t stop herself from sighing again. She looked at the scribbled calculations and did more mental math in her head. 

“Well, that takes care of being short on cash, but it’s still not enough to stay here,” she said, defeat creeping into her voice. “I don’t suppose you have a magical solution to my rent problem, would you?”

Kerry looked at the wall, seemingly deep in thought. For a second, Susan thought she would shake her head, but instead while still gazing at the wall, Kerry bit her lip.

“Oh my god, you do,” Susan said in awe. “You really have an answer to everything, don’t you?”

Choosing to ignore the jibe, Kerry continued to think for a moment. Finally, she closed her eyes for a second and then looked at Susan. 

“I don’t usually advertise it at work as I like to try and keep my personal and professional lives separate. Though I’ve done a poor job at that these last few months…”

“Hey, that’s your fault,” Susan cut in. “I didn’t invite you.”

Kerry paused, trying to judge if the comment was meant to convey anger or not. But there wa a s light-hearted glint in Susan’s eyes, so she just chuckled. 

“No, you didn’t. But you didn’t kick me out either,” she said in a softer voice. “I rent out my basement. Typically just to med students. The student that was renting it just moved out a few weeks ago and I haven’t put another ad out yet to find someone else. It’s yo- I’d be willing to rent it to you. If you want it that is.”

Susan didn’t need to hear the change in the tone of Kerry’s voice to know that they were teetering on the edge of another boundary. 

God, she did  _ not _ want to rent from, much less  _ live with, _ Kerry Weaver. She was already dreading returning to work and having to work under her again (her mind not yet even having processed what it would mean to be Chief Resident under her). 

Then again, she hadn’t wanted her help either, only to realize that she needed it. And they  _ were _ definitely on much better terms than they had been prior to all this. Plus, living with someone else, especially the person who had helped her out with Suzie so much over the past few months, would be really helpful.

“How much do you lease it for?”

“$700 a month.”

“ _ $700 a month? _ ” Susan asked incredulously. 

“I try to keep it low. It is mostly students, after all.”

“I could pay you at least a thousand,” Susan replied before stopping to think about what she was saying.

“Are- are you trying to  _ negotiate _ a higher rent?” Kerry asked, her turn to respond incredulously. “Susan, I’d give it to you for $700. Or lower, if that’s what you needed.”

The grilled cheese sizzled, resuming Kerry’s attention once again. As she began to take an awkward shuffling step sideways to get out the plates from the cabinet, Susan popped up and beat her to it. 

“I’m not a student. I can pay you more.”

Kerry moved the sandwich onto the offered plate. 

“Susan, if you rent from me, you pay the rate I give you.” She almost laughed. Usually when she had this conversation, the fresh out of undergrad twenty-something was trying to convince her to lower the price, not raise it. “Use the extra money towards your loans or start a college fund for Suzie.”

Susan opened her mouth to argue again, but Kerry shot her a look before she could say anything. 

“Unless you want me to assign you chores to cover whatever additional money you think you should owe me, I suggest you either accept it or decline it,” Kerry instructed in her typical commanding tone. But after she put the other sandwich in the pan, her tone softened again. “I’m off on Friday. If you and Suzie want to come to my place for dinner, I could show it to you and you could make your decision then.”

 

Susan did her best not to dwell on how nice the house looked from the outside or how the summer breeze seemed to carry the laughter of families relaxing on the lakeshore to the east. 

She climbed the couple steps and knocked on the door. Through the front window, Susan could see a modest dining room. The mirror on the far wall reflected multi-colored light from the TV. 

The door opened, slowly at first and then wider as Kerry recognized her guests. 

“Welcome. Come in, come in,” Kerry said, stepping aside to usher Susan in.  “I’m glad you found it alright.”

Susan stepped inside and took in both the view of the living room and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen.

“If you wouldn’t mind, please take off your shoes.”

Susan obliged, handing Suzie off.

“This is a beautiful place you’ve got, Kerry,” Susan commented as she straightened up.

“Thank you.” Kerry handed Suzie back over to Susan. “There’s still a few minutes before dinner is done, so I figured I’d give you the tour first?”

“Sure. Lead the way.” 

Kerry nodded and motioned towards the dining room. The dining room table was already set with two places. 

“Dining room to your right. I don’t really have an ‘eat-in’ kitchen, so we’ll be in here later. And opposite that is the living room.”

Susan glanced around the living space, taking in the African tribal artwork adorning the walls and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves flanking the television. Intermixed in the carefully curated book collection were framed photographs and small sculptures. 

Kerry led them forward towards the back of the house. She had a habit of setting her crutch aside while cooking for better use of both hands and hadn’t thought to pick it up to open the door. Knowing Susan was right behind her, she wondered exactly how pronounced her limp looked today and, subconsciously, she wondered what Susan thought about it. 

“Back here is the kitchen, which you would be more than welcome to use if you liv- if you rented here,” Kerry explained. She crossed to the desk and picked up her crutch, threading her arm through it as she spoke. “That door over there is to the master bedroom and this one here off the kitchen is to the basement.” 

Susan stepped forward, intending to hold it open, but Kerry motioned for her to go first. She did as instructed, stepping down the dark steps until a light flicked on above her. 

“It’s not terribly big,” Kerry continued as Susan reached the bottom of the stairs. “But there’s enough room for a small living space of your own. Most of the students will put a sofa in here. Back behind that wall there is more of the bedroom.”

Kerry wasn’t exaggerating; the room was small. Susan could easily imagine a broke medical student thinking this much room in this neighborhood for such a small amount of money would be like hitting the jackpot. 

But, she had admit that the moment she stepped foot in the basement, Susan started to imagine how she would arrange the furniture. Crib over here, shelf over there, TV on this wall so she could see it from the bedroom too…

“There’s a small bathroom under the stairs.”

Susan turned to look and, sure enough, there was a small bathroom, complete with hand towel rack and corner shower, hidden beneath the steps. 

“There’s no bathtub.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no,” Susan said, shaking her head. “I’m just thinking about bathing Suzie.”

“Oh. Well…” Kerry paused. “You could use the master bathroom, if you’d like. There’s a bathtub in there.”

Susan broke her thoughts away from mentally  arranging the basement and looked back to Kerry. 

“That would be great.” She looked around again. “Actually, all of this would be great.”

Without meaning to (or noticing she had), Kerry seemed to light up a little at this. If anything, she was certainly smiling more.

“Wonderful. I’m glad to hear it.”

A timer went off above them upstairs, prompting Kerry to start back up the steps into the kitchen. Susan lingered behind for a moment before casting the room a final glance and making her own way back upstairs. 

The delicious smell she had caught earlier was now so powerful that it made Susan’s mouth water. 

“God, Kerry, was  _ is _ that? It smells like heaven.”

“Roasted chicken on a bed of Brussel sprouts and red potatoes,” Kerry replied as she pulled a large pan out of the oven. “And before you frown at the Brussel sprouts, I assure you a  _ lot _ of butter and salt when into this. It will be good, I promise.”

“You had me at ‘roasted chicken’.”

 

Susan had never had Brussel sprouts that good. 

Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever had good Brussel sprouts  _ period _ . 

The whole drive back to her apartment, Susan couldn’t help but wonder if Kerry had been holding out on her cooking-wise. Because food didn’t taste like that. Not even the dinners Kerry had made in Susan’s apartment had tasted like that. 

It had ended up a nice little dinner. Susan had found it easier and easier to chat casually with Kerry (and the glass of wine with dinner definitely helped). Like it or not, she was becoming more comfortable around the redhead. And considering that the night had ended with Susan signing paperwork to rent from her, she had to admit getting along well with Kerry  _ might _ not be such a bad thing. 

But still, something was poking at Susan as she drove. There was something about Kerry’s house that made her feel comfortable too, apart from the owner herself. 

It took giving Suzie a bath, reading her a book, and putting her down for the night to realize what it was about the townhouse that she didn’t quite feel here. 

It was the fact that everything in the living room within a toddler’s reach had been moved up and out of reach. 

It was the photographs on the side tables and the shoes lined up near the door.

It was the thought of tucking up with a good book on the couch while Suzie played with blocks a few feet away. 

There was one thing the house had that had made her feel so comfortable: it had felt like home. 


	5. Chapter 5

_ Visualize the cords… pass the tube… and… and… _

“Got it. Bag him.”

One of the nurses connected an Ambu bag to the tube and began squeezing it.

Behind them, the monitor started beeping. 

_ Come ON.  _

“He’s in v-fib. Starting compressions.”

“Okay.” Susan took a deep breath. “Give him an amp of epi and charge to sixty.”

A nurse handed her the paddles. Another injected an amp of epinephrine into the port. Susan waited a moment for it to circulate.

“Clear.”

Everyone in the vicinity jumped back, hands raised, as Susan put the paddles down on the man’s chest and pressed the button. She felt the man jerk beneath her, but the monitor continued to scream.

“Okay. Charge to one hundred,” Susan shouted. “Clear.”

The monitor stopped beeping. Susan glanced up at it just as someone announced that they were back to normal sinus rhythm.

“Dr. Lewis, there’s a thousand cc’s in that Thoraseal,” someone informed her, lifting the container for her to see. 

“Somebody get me the ultrasound. What’s his Hemacue?”

“12.2.”

“And what was it last time?” 

“23.6.”

Susan shook her head. The ultrasound was rolled into the room and once the nurse had jellied it up, Susan began moving it around the man’s abdomen.

“He’s got blood in Morrison’s,” Susan stated, mentally kicking herself for not catching it sooner. “Somebody page the OR.”

“They’re already waiting for us.”

“Great. Let’s get him upstairs.”

Susan helped wheel the gurney out into the hall. Peter Benton met them at the elevator.

Once Susan had passed the unfortunate MVA off, she made her way back to Admit. She felt like she was sweating through her scrub top, but a quick check revealed no such embarrassment.

“Good first week back?” a voice asked as Susan collapsed into a chair behind the desk.

Susan looked up to see Mark smiling at her. Though she felt thoroughly exhausted and convinced she was going to melt into a puddle of sweat at any moment, but the warmth in his eyes was comforting.

“Oh, you know,” Susan chuckled as she lifted her hands to redo her ponytail. “This morning I got to lacerate an ulcer, tell a patient their cancer was back and had spread to their lungs, and then I got vomited on. But after that I saved someone’s life, so it kind of evens out.”

Mark chuckled and picked up a new chart.

In front of them, Doug Ross paused in front of the desk to talk to Carol. Susan slid a chart down the counter towards him before he could even open his mouth to speak.

“Doug, I’ve got a sixteen-year-old in Curtain Two with JRA. I figured you’d want to take a look at her before I page Rheumatology.”

Doug looked from the chart to Susan.

“Yeah, sure.”

Mark glanced sideways towards Susan, who was already looking at another chart. He started to comment, but before he could, Susan was flagging down Kerry as she passed by. 

“Hey. Kerry,” Susan said, raising a chart. “If you have time later, I want to talk about some inconsistencies in resident charting. I was doing a review this morning and I think there’s some things we could do to make sure people are using the same language and shorthand. To prevent errors.”

Both Mark and Kerry stared wide-eyed at Susan for a moment. 

“Of… of course,” Kerry replied slowly, surprised. “Give me about half an hour and we’ll chat.”

As Kerry continued on towards her next patient, Mark continued to stare at Susan in shock. 

“What?” Susan asked.

“You’re doing chart review on your residents? Already?”

“It’s part of the job,” Susan said with a shrug. “Besides, it’s helpful. Helps me get back into the swing of things. It’s a good refresher.”

“You’re really taking your new role seriously, aren’t you?” Mark shook his head. “You better be careful or you’ll start turning into Weaver.”

Susan chuckled and marked something on a chart in front of her. 

For a second, they both focused on their charts in silence. But Mark couldn’t help but feel the need to quash a rumor that had been bugging him all morning.

“Is… Is it true that you’re living in her basement?” he asked, dropping his voice so as not to be overheard by eavesdropping nurses. 

“Yeah, it is. I mean, I am.”

“What’d she do, kidnap you at gunpoint? Force you to move in with her so she could train you to be the ultimate Chief Resident or something?”

Susan rolled her eyes.

“I needed somewhere cheaper to live after my landlord upped the rent and she offered. She usually rents it to students, so it costs practically nothing.”

“I see,” Mark said, nodding. “So, is it true she turns into a bat at night?”

Susan laughed politely, but she had to admit, the joke wasn’t nearly as funny as it would have been a couple months ago. Unfortunately, Mark took the chuckle as encouragement.

“You know, we haven’t really gotten the chance to hang out in a while. Why don’t we grab a drink tonight? You and I? Nothing fancy. Just a couple of beers and some catching up.”

The offer  _ was _ tempting. It wasn’t like she had had much of a social life lately. She made a mental note to ask Kerry if she’d pick Suzie up from her dad’s house on the way home from work tonight. Kerry was getting off a couple hours earlier than her anyways. 

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Great. I’m off at seven. You?”

“Eight.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you at Flanagan’s down the street.”

Mark smiled. He straightened the papers on his chart before the Ambulance Bay doors flew open and he was drawn into the incoming trauma.

 

Flanagan’s had the distinction of being as loud and rowdy on a Tuesday night as it was on a Friday. 

Mark spotted her across the bar before she did. He waved her over. As Susan pushed through the crowd, she saw that he wasn’t alone.

On the barstool next to him was Doug Ross. And around him was Carol and Haleh and Wendy. A whole group of ER staff, all chatting and drinking. Even Carter, who didn’t technically count as ER staff, had joined. 

“What is this?” Susan asked, leaning close to Mark and raising her voice in order to be heard over the music. “Another surprise party?”

“No. Kind of an accident,” Mark shouted back. “I told Doug and Doug told Carol and Carol told the nurses.”

Susan looked around and felt something bubble in the pit of her stomach. 

“You didn’t tell me they’d be here,” Susan shouted. “The whole staff is here.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Everyone except one,” Susan continued. 

Doug caught this exchange and raised his beer bottle. Given the way he smiled blissfully, it was clear he’d had a couple already.

“And good riddance.”

Susan shot Doug a look of such utter disdain that both she and Mark were surprised he didn’t recoil.

“This isn’t right,” Susan said loudly, leaning closer to Mark so not even Doug could hear her. “I asked Kerry to look after Suzie so you and I could go get a drink. Not the entire ER. This isn’t right.”

“You’re right and I’m sorry,” Mark replied. “I should have told you that the others were coming.”

Mark knew this was  _ not _ the right thing to say as soon as he said it. Susan’s face hardened and she started shaking her head. She didn’t even try to say anything over the din of the bar and instead just turned to fight her way back through the crowd.

The rest of the staff had barely noticed Susan’s arrival and none had noticed her departure either. But they  _ did _ notice when Mark started following her.

Susan had already reached the sidewalk and turned in the direction of the El when Mark finally made it out the door.

“Susan. Susan, wait.”

Susan didn’t stop, but she did slow down. Mark caught up with her a few moments later, breathing hard.

“Look,” he said, touching her lightly on the shoulder. Susan stopped, but didn’t turn to face him. “Susan, I’m sorry. I should have told you that the others were coming. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. But clearly it was, so I’m sorry.”

Susan turned on him, her hands raised in frustration.

“Mark, everyone who’s not currently working is in there except Kerry and the only reason she’s not there too is because I asked her to pick Suzie up. What if I stayed, huh? She’d think I asked her to babysit so that she  _ couldn’t  _ come. She’d think I was leaving her out on purpose and- and-” Susan let out a groan. “Mark, she’s our co-worker. Hell, Mark, she’s my  _ roommate _ . I-I can’t do that to her.” 

“She’s not your roommate. She’s your landlady.”

Susan set her jaw.

“Yeah. She’s my landlady. My landlady who helps take care of my daughter and who cooks us dinner and helps with the laundry and-”

“Okay, I get it. I get it,” Mark said cutting her off. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Neither Mark nor Susan moved. Susan made herself take deep breaths to calm herself down. Mark just watched her. 

“Are we okay?” Mark asked slowly.

Susan looked up at him. She considered him for a moment. Mark couldn’t read her. 

Finally, after a long silence, Susan finally spoke.

“Did you ever think to look into maternity leave for me?”

Mark frowned. 

“What?”

“Did you ever think to bring me dinner? Or come look after Suzie for a little while so I could go to the grocery store or take a fucking bath?” Susan asked, her frustration she was only now realizing had been pent up for three months growing stronger with every word. “We were best friends, Mark. I saw you every day and then I went on maternity leave and it was like radio silence. Nothing. For  _ months _ .

“And you know what, Kerry Weaver might be a pushy pain in the ass, but at least she stopped and thought ‘hey, maybe Susan could use some help’-”

“Susan, if you’d have told me that you needed help-”

“ _ I DIDN’T KNOW _ ,” Susan seethed. “I didn’t know how much help I was going to need or what I was going to need help with. You’re my best friend, Mark. And- and more than that, you’re a  _ dad _ . You should have known that I was going to need help.

“But you know what? Maybe that was asking too much. I mean, were you even  _ there  _ when Jen was home with Rachel?”

Susan turned and stalked away before she could see the hurt in his eyes.

God, did she really just say that? And to  _ Mark _ . It was a low blow. A  _ very _ low blow.

Susan grew more and more disappointed in herself with every step up the El platform. Not even the rush of the northbound train could distract her from it. 

What was the world coming to, she thought, that she was defending Kerry Weaver and arguing with Mark Greene. 

And if all this started happened in three months, what the hell was going to happen next? And, more importantly, who was she going to be on the other side?


	6. Chapter 6

Though the heat lingering into September was sweltering outside, a thick frostiness permeated the ER. Though she would never say it out loud, Kerry was relieved that for once it wasn’t directed at her. 

Apart from tension string from the recent merge of Southside, Kerry wasn’t exactly sure where it had come from, only that whatever had happened had sown animosity between Susan and Mark.

She wondered if it didn’t have something to do with the night the pair had gone out for a drink. Susan had come back much earlier than planned, thanked her for watching Suzie, and immediately swept the toddler with her into the basement without another word.  Ever since, Susan and Mark had assumed an icy politeness. 

Susan had stopped talking to her as well. At home, at least. At work, they were actually getting along rather well.

Being Chief Resident brought out a natural leadership in Susan, one that Kerry felt she should foster. And Susan let her. Kerry gave her complicated patients, trusted her to do chart review, and once even brought her with to a staff meeting. Susan took it in her stride and had only gotten pissed off once.

But at home, they barely ever spent any time together. Susan and Suzie would disappear into the basement. Kerry had stopped asking if they wanted to join her dinner when their schedules allowed. 

Really, this was entirely normal. After all, she had never really spent any time with the med students that had rented her basement, had she? But then again, she had never spent an increasing amount of time with those med students over the course of three months. 

“Hey, Dr. Weaver?”

A voice jerked Kerry out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Maggie Doyle, the new intern that had been transferred to County from Southside, leaning on the desk in front of her with a chart in her hand. 

“Yes, Dy. Doyle?”

“Please, Dr. Doyle is my father,” Maggie said, in a false bravado before smiling playfully. “I’m just kidding. He’s a cop.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m supposed to present to Dr. Lewis, but she just got pulled into a trauma. Any way I could present to you instead?”

There had been a trauma? Had it come by right in front of her and she hadn’t even noticed?

“Uh, sure.”

“Great. He’s in Exam Two.”

Kerry nodded and followed Maggie down the hall. 

A big white man sat on the bed Maggie led her to. When he saw the intern, he waved with one hand while holding the nebulizer to his mouth with the other.

“This is Joe Brock. 32-year-old white male with acute respiratory distress after playing football with his buddies. No sign of injury or damage to the lungs, but there was stridor so it was determined to be an asthma attack,” Maggie explained.

“Hello, Mr. Brock. I’m Dr. Weaver,” Kerry greeted. “How are you feeling?”

The patient gave a a so-so motion with his free hand.

“He’s been on continuous nebs of albuterol for an hour, but his lungs aren’t sounding clear yet. I’m thinking theophylline.”

“Theophylline is no longer the standard of care for acute asthma due to the strong possibility of theophylline toxicity,” Kerry informed her as she removed her stethoscope from around her neck. “Mr. Brock, I’m going to listen to your lungs.”

Mr. Brock gave her a thumbs up. She placed the stethoscope on his back and listened for a moment before straightening up. She pulled the earpieces from her ears.

“Let’s do another hour of nebs, but switch to the ipratropium/albuterol mix. If that doesn’t help, do a dose of prednisone and page Pulmonology.”

“You got it.”

Mr. Brock gave another thumbs up. He made a flat hand, touched it to his chin, and then pulled it forward - the sign for “thank you”. 

“You’re welcome,” Kerry said, returning the gesture before turning for the door.

She was nearly back to the Admit desk when Maggie caught up to her. 

“Hey, Dr. Weaver, I need you to sign this,” Maggie said, holding up a chart. 

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.”

Kerry checked the orders and scribbled her name on the bottom of the page.

“Thanks.”

Kerry nodded absently, ready to make her way around the desk, when she noticed the odd, appraising look Maggie was giving her. 

She was used to this. She’d learned from a young age that the moment people saw her crutch, they took it as an invitation to stare and question. But this wasn’t that. 

It looked as if Maggie...  _ saw _ something in Kerry. It seemed to please her, given the smirk that crept across the young woman’s features, but what exactly Maggie Doyle seemed to see in Kerry, Kerry didn’t know.

Before Kerry could even ask, Susan stepped up to the desk and dropped a chart on the counter. She buried her face in her hands. 

“Not good, I take it?”

Susan shook her head.

“The guy was DOA. Shotgun versus temple. Grey matter all over the gurney,” Susan said, her voice muffled through her fingers. She dropped her hands. “I don’t even know why the paramedics bothered to bring him in.”

“To restock their rig,” Lydia muttered as she passed by. “I just told ‘em off for it.”

Kerry inched slightly closer to Susan and dropped her voice so as not to be overheard by Randi.

“We’re both off early tonight. How about after you pick up Suzie we go get dinner?” 

Susan picked her face up out of her hands. She leaned on her elbows and looked up at Kerry. Then she shook her head. 

“Thanks, but I promised my dad I’d have dinner with him tonight,” Susan replied flatly. “I actually mean to come by and let you know I’d be home late.”

“Oh. Okay. Yes, of course,” Kerry said, nodding. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Heat began to rise in her cheeks. She caught Maggie’s eye as she turned to make her escape and felt her cheeks burn even more as the intern’s knowing smirk returned en force.

But she didn’t linger long enough to think about it. 

Maggie watched her go for a moment before she leaned against the counter next to Susan. 

“Dr. Lewis, you live with Dr. Weaver, right?”

Susan let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. 

“No, I don’t know why and, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“What?” Maggie looked at her for a moment, confused, then shook her head. “No, no. I just wanted to ask… do you know what, uh, team she plays for?”

“As far as I know, she doesn’t pay any sports,” Susan replied distractedly. 

Susan didn’t look up from the chart she was now reading, but the question certainly got Randi’s attention. Maggie noticed the desk clerk itching to scoot closer and cast her a warning look. When she spoke again, her voice was barely louder than a whisper. 

“No,” Maggie said with a chuckle. “I meant... what  _ team _ does she play for?”

The emphasis on the word “team” made Susan finally look up. She turned sideways to look at Maggie better. She raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“I’m just curious is all,” Maggie answered, shrugging.

“Curious like you want to know if you have a shot kind of curious?”

“Better her than that surgical intern who keeps looking at me when he thinks I don’t notice.”

Susan’s eyes snapped to the intern in question who was currently talking to Peter Benton outside the lounge.

“As far as I know,” Susan said quietly, “she’s straight.”

Maggie’s face fell slightly, but she shrugged as if it was expected. 

Susan picked up another chart and turned away from the desk. She needed to stop by radiology, but decided to do so via the bathroom . Maggie grabbed her chart as well and followed.

“So, what about you?” Maggie asked, falling in step with Susan “What team do you play for?”

Susan snorted and glanced sideways at Maggie. The snort had only seemed to make the intern more eager.

“You really want to know?”

Maggie nodded.

“Both,” she whispered. But when Maggie’s eyebrows rose appreciatively, Susan raised a playfully warning finger. “But I’m a single mom, so don’t get too excited.”

“Hey, I’m good with kids.”

Susan rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

“You know,” Maggie said, dropping her voice even further as they passed a group of patients, “I asked about the whole team thing out of curiosity, but also because I think Dr. Weaver might have a thing for you.”

Susan turned on Maggie, eyes wide, only a few feet from the bathroom door. 

“Are you kidding me?” Susan let out derisive laugh. “Why on earth would you think that?”

“Well, I mean you two live together, right?”

“Yeah, as roommates. I mean… not even really that. I’m her tenant.”

Maggie didn’t look convinced, earning her another eye roll.

“Okay. But I don’t know how many landlords get that flushed when their tenants turn them down for dinner.”

Susan looked at Maggie, stunned, before she nodded. 

“No. No, that was not why,” Susan said defiantly. “She’s probably just pissed off at me.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I haven’t exactly been that great to her lately. When I came back to work, it took me a while to adjust to being Chief Resident and being a working mom and…” 

Susan couldn’t believe that she was talking so candidly about her problems with one of her interns, but it felt really good to tell  _ someone _ . 

“Okay, you’re new here. You probably don’t know. Okay, so, last year,  _ Kerry _ was the new one and we didn’t get along. Just… from the get go. But when I left on maternity leave, she and I kind of became… friends. So, part of the reason I haven’t been that great to her lately is that I still kind of feel weird about us being friends,  _ especially  _ at work. And I’ve kind of shut her out because of that.”

“Gotcha, gotcha.”

“And at this point, it’s mostly about me not having the guts to act like a grown up,” Susan said, rolling her eyes again, but this time at herself. She turned back in the direction of the bathroom. “I think what’s really getting me is that I feel like should be-”

Susan stopped mid-sentence as one of the new nurses from Southside (whose name she did not know) opened the bathroom door. She and Maggie waited for a moment for the woman to pass before Susan went into the bathroom, picking up where she left off.

“- sick of her, you know? Like I see her  _ every day  _ at work and I see her  _ every day _ at home. That’s a lot. And I keep thinking I’m going to feel different about it, about her. But I don’t.” Susan sighed. “And, Maggie, I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us. Not that it’s much of a secret, but still.”

Maggie nodded as Susan turned on the tap.

As a rule, Susan aways washed her hands before  _ and _ after using the bathroom. Luckily, Maggie didn’t seem phased by this. That was good, she thought. There were some things you just didn’t want to have to explain your reasoning about.

Susan dried her hands and was about to head into an empty stall when her pager went off. She fished it out of her lab coat pocket and scoffed. 

Maggie watched a muttering Susan leave before washing her hands herself and using the bathroom. 

Kerry waited until the bathroom was totally empty before she picked her crutch up from where it hung on the coat hook on the back of the door and exited the stall. 

So. Susan was sick of her. 

That certainly explained the distance that had grown between them over the past few weeks and why Susan had turned down dinner so many times. They weren’t friends after all. They were just colleagues who happened to live in the same house. The only thing that had changed after all was where Susan lived. 

And wasn’t that better? Wasn’t that exactly what was supposed to happen? Kerry had worried that Susan living with her might come across as favoritism or special treatment. But it wasn’t special treatment if nothing between her and Susan had changed.

Great. This was great.

No. It was better than great. It was  _ perfect. _

Nothing had changed and that should be comforting. She didn’t have to worry about what Susan thought of her or if she was overstepping bounds. No more treading lightly or being overly concerned about how their relationship would be perceived or what people would think of her.

Everything she had been fretting about ever since that first time she took Susan dinner had been cleared up in a matter of seconds. 

She should feel good. She should feel  _ relieved _ . But really, the only thing she felt was much,  _ much _ worse.


	7. Chapter 7

Kerry shook her head and began peeling off her gloves. 

“That’s it. Call it.”

“Time of death: 13:31.”

Carol turned off the monitor, silencing the high-pitched squeal. She and the rest of the staff that had been trying to save the mugging victim shrugged out of their 

Susan pulled off her own gloves and tossed them in the trash can as she followed Kerry out of the trauma. 

She didn’t get two steps out of the door to Trauma One before Kerry turned on her. 

“You waited too long on the epi,” Kerry snapped, stepping up to Susan. “You should have called for it sooner.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference-”

“But you should still have been prepared to give it,” Kerry said, cutting her off. “You all but gave up on her.”

“I did  _ not  _ give up on her,” Susan retorted. “Her aorta was blown. What it would have taken to save her none of us could have done in the time we had. You know as well as I do that it was too late.”

“ _ Regardless _ , you still waited too long. You should have at least called for it. The nurses have your back.”

“Yeah, the nurses have my back. But it would have been a waste of their time and energy to set up an epi on a woman who was already dead.”

“It’s still the standard of care,” Kerry said icily. “If you can’t follow the standard of care, then you have no business being the Chief Resident.”

And with that, Kerry turned and started back towards admit. 

Susan was breathing hard and thinking seriously of attending-cide when someone behind her cleared their throat. 

Not only had Doyle and Carter been watching, having both been in the trauma themselves, but Lydia, Chuny, Carol, and Mark had gathered to watch the argument as well. Susan flashed her eyes at them and they scattered, leaving only Mark behind. 

Mark hesitated for a second before approaching her. 

“I know I probably shouldn’t say this,” Mark said quietly, “but that was really satisfying to watch.”

Susan narrowed her eyes at him, but the shrug she got in return broke her frustration. She sighed and shook her head. Mark put an arm around her shoulder. 

“I thought you were exempt from Weaverings,” he said as they started towards the lounge, “what with you being her friend and all.”

“Yeah, me too,” Susan said with a huff. “We’d been getting along really well until last week. I don’t know what happened. I mean… I know what was happening  _ before  _ that, but… God, I don’t know.”

“You want to piss her off even more and go grab lunch at Doc Magoo’s while still technically on the clock?”

Susan smiled. She leaned into him in a half-hug. Though she hated the idea of only being able to get along with one attending at a time, she had to admit that it was nice to be on speaking terms with Mark again.

 

Kerry seemed not to have noticed that Susan and Mark had disappeared for over an hour. Or at least, if she did, she said nothing to either of them. But just because  _ she _ wasn’t saying anything didn’t mean that no one was. 

Every time Susan returned to the desk to pick up a new chart for the rest of her shift, any nurse or desk clerk in the vicinity immediately stopped talking. Instead, they cast her conspicuous looks of intrigue when they thought she wasn’t looking and serious looks of sympathy when they thought she was.

The worst part by far was the interns. More than once, Susan had to put on her Chief Resident voice just to get them to go do what they were supposed to. 

Susan knew that it wasn’t that they were ignoring her. Only that she had lost some of her only-recently-developed fear factor by getting chewed out by an attending. 

She needed to get it back, but not the same way Kerry had. Yelling at Kerry would only make it look like some kind of schoolyard disagreement and she was  _ not _ going to become a joke. 

Besides. She really didn’t want this to happen again, which meant they would need to talk about it like adults. But first…

Susan stepped inside the front door and dropped the diaper bag on the ground next to her. Suzie was fast asleep in her arms, having  _ just _ managed to fall asleep as they pulled onto the street. 

She kicked her shoes off and nudged them onto the small carpet next to the door. Silently, she crossed the room on her way to the basement, stopping only to make pointed eye contact with Kerry, who sat curled up on the couch.

Kerry did not move, nor did she say anything. She resolutely focused her attention on the copy of last months  _ Annals  _ in her hand. She tried to read on the impact of some new computer software on the decrease of frequent flyers in the ER, but kept re-reading the same paragraph over and over. The words refused to stick. And the moment the basement door opened again, it was practically impossible. 

Susan closed the basement door carefully before turning slowly towards the couch. 

“Okay. Something is wrong, and I want to talk about it like grownups, but also, I’ve been pissed off at you all day. So, we’re gonna talk, but first I’m gonna yell at you.”

Kerry’s eyes flicked up towards Susan just in time to see Susan raise a threatening finger in her direction.

“Don’t you  _ ever _ speak to me like that in front of my interns again. Don’t you  _ ever  _ speak to me that in front of my residents orr in front of the nurses or the desk clerks or the patients. If you have a problem with me, you come to  _ me _ . Alone. In private. And I know for a  _ fact _ that you asked the same thing of Mark last year when you were the Chief Resident, so the least you can do is do the same for me now.

Susan had slowly crept forward, her finger raised towards Kerry, as she spoke. She was now almost even with the couch, the two women’s eyes locked. 

“And  _ if  _ you ever speak to me like that in front of hospital staff again, I  _ will _ kick your ass. First, professionally, and then physically. I am not afraid of you. And if you don’t treat me with respect in front of my colleagues, I will end you. Now…”

Susan inhaled deeply and collapsed on the couch, releasing the breath as she did so. The tension melted from her shoulders and her expression changed from anger to concern.

“What  _ happened _ ? We had been doing so well. We’d been getting along so well and then suddenly we weren’t,” Susan said, her voice toned with something almost pining. “I know that I hadn’t been the best friend to you for a while, but… but you seemed to have been respecting my need for space. And then… and then we’re yelling at each other.”

Susan sighed. She looked to Kerry, who hadn’t moved a muscle since Susan had returned from downstairs. The other woman was silently watching her, brow raised slightly. Susan let out another deep sigh and leaned forward slightly.

“Look… You’re my friend. I enjoy getting along with you. And I think it’s better for both of us when we do. I mean… face it. When the two of us are in a trauma together, we’re basically unstoppable. And when we get along afterwards? Even  _ better _ . 

“I don’t  _ want _ to fight with you all the time. We spent enough of last year not getting along and I don’t want to go back to that.  _ But  _ if you pull the shit that you pulled today, we’re going to go straight back to that  _ hard _ . And do you really want that? Because I don’t..

“And you  _ knew _ that it wouldn’t have mattered if I had given that woman all of the epi and all the lido and all the shocks I could. It wouldn’t have saved her. So, something else is going on. And I want to talk about it, because the thing that happened today can  _ never _ happen again.”

Kerry huffed, rolling her eyes. She slide a bookmark into the journal in her hand and began shaking her head. 

“I don’t know why you think it’s so surprising that we got into a disagreement. You’ve worked with me before. If you mess up, that’s what happens. You know that. Nothing’s changed.”

“Bull _ shit _ ,” Susan said, drawing out both syllables. “ _ Everything  _ has changed. But-but in a good way.  And we were doing well! We were fine! For  _ weeks _ . Then something happened and we weren’t fine.”

When Kerry avoided eye contact by looking over the room, Susan scooched closer to her on the couch.

“Come on. You’re my friend. Talk to me.”

Kerry shook her head again and unconsciously crossed her arms in front of her. 

“ _ Am _ I your friend? Because that’s not what you told Maggie Doyle.”

Susan blinked. 

“What are you talking about? Did- did she tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to. I was in the bathroom. I heard you. You told her that you were sick of seeing me all the time and that you wished you felt different, but you didn’t.”

Susan continued to stare for a moment, trying to recall that conversation with Maggie. After a moment, she shook her head seriously before scoffing and looking up at the ceiling.

“God, this is so  _ high school _ ,” Susan said, rolling her eyes. “I told Maggie I thought I  _ should _ be sick of you, but I wasn’t. And as for feeling different, well, there’s still a part of me that thinks I should hate you. But I don’t.”

Kerry said nothing for a long moment. When she did speak, her voice was much lower and didn’t quite hide the hurt she felt.

“You didn’t talk to me for weeks.”

“I know,” Susan acknowledged, “and I’m sorry. It was… It was an adjustment period. And I was trying to adjust and struggling with it and I sort of took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Kerry nodded, suddenly interested in a loose string on the blanket over her legs. Finally, she sighed and looked up at Susan.

“And I’m sorry I yelled at you after the trauma today. There was no reason for it.”

“You’re damn right there wasn’t.”

Kerry bristled instinctively at Susan’s reply, her own answer forming on her lips. But Susan was smiling slightly and there was no lingering anger in her tone. 

Susan watched Kerry relax for a moment before raising an eyebrow.

“So… are we okay now? Back to normal?” Susan asked, before adding, “Or whatever normal is now?”

Kerry nodded. 

“Good, good.”

Susan let out a deep breath and leaned her head back against the couch. Kerry continued to pick at the thread on the blanket.

Silence fell between them for a moment. Susan was beginning to relax enough to drift off to sleep when she heard Kerey speak.

“I should say …” Kerry began, glancing sideways up at Susan, “if you were to kick my ass, you should know that I  _ will  _ fight back.”

“Oh, I’d expect it,” Susan said with a chuckle. “Though it’s not even really fair, considering you automatically have a weapon.”

“And I’d use it.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Randi used it knock someone out last year.”

Susan took a second to reminisce before nodding. 

“I remember that. That was awesome.”

“She shouldn’t have done it,” Kerry said, shaking her head. “The guy was handcuffed to a gurney. He wasn’t going anywhere.The only reason she did it was because the guy shoved Jeanie and I. She could have gotten us all sued.”

Kerry paused and then shrugged like she was giving in to something.

“But it was pretty awesome.”

Susan smiled. She reached a hand up to undo her ponytail. Kerry watched as Susan’s hair cascaded down over her shoulders and she began to run her fingers through it lazily. The blonde streaks in the brown seemed to glint slightly in the soft light of the lamp beside her. 

“Have you ever knocked anyone out with it?”

Kerry jerked out of watching Susan fingercomb her hair and back to the present. She took a second to process the question before she shook her head, chuckling. 

“No, no.”

“Have you ever beaten anyone up with it?”

This time Kerry paused to think. 

“I don’t know if I would call it ‘beating up’, but…”

Susan sat up straighter, intrigued.

“Oh my God. Who did you beat up?”

Kerry shook her head harder. She waved Susan away.

“You don’t want to hear that.”

“Oh, yes I do,” Susan said, nodding. “Please tell me.”

Kerry took a deep breath and rolled her eyes.

“I spent most of my childhood in Africa. My parent were sort of missionaries. We moved there when I was two and moved back when I was twelve, so my first experience with American public schools was seventh grade.”

“Yikes.”

“Mmmm,” Kerry hummed in acknowledgement. “There were these boys who would hang around my locker to harass me. Call me names. Try and take my stuff. You know. And I told my parents, who gave a… well, to their credit, a very  _ Christian  _ answer. ‘If they take an inch, give them a mile’. ‘If they take your shoes, give them your shirt as well’ or whatever. Basically… ‘kill them with kindness’. To which I started to wonder if they’d ever even  _ been  _ to junior high.”

Kerry took a beat in her recounting of the story. She’d never told anyone about this before. Hell, she’d never told anyone  _ anything _ close to this before. But the defenses she’d so carefully crafted in her thirty-five years hadn’t even registered when Susan had asked. Which led Kerry to ask, for what felt the millionth time this year, why the hell was it so easy to talk to Susan Lewis?

“One day,” Kerry continued, “they had grabbed a library book I’d been holding. And I remember thinking ‘I will not be held responsible for any damages they incur’.”

“Ah. So, you’ve  _ always _ been this way,” Susan commented. 

“Yes, I have,” Kerry confirmed. “I was just so fed up and my crutch was in my hand, as it usually is, and I just picked it up and… swung.”

A smirk crept onto Kerry’s face. Though she felt she knew the answer, Susan couldn’t help but ask. 

“Where did you hit him?”

Kerry raised an eyebrow. Her smirk grew broader. 

“Between the legs,” she stated simply. “Had a hell of a time trying to convince the principal that wasn’t where I was aiming for.”

“You got sent to the principal’s office?”

“Yep. And I got grounded for two weeks by my parents,” Kerry said. “But those boys never messed with me again.”

Susan nodded appreciatively. 

“That’s pretty badass.”

Kerry smiled. She could feel the warmth rising in her cheeks again and willed it to stop. It always seemed to happen at the most random moments and only when she was around Susan. 

“Have you ever hit a colleague with it?”

“Hmm? Oh, no,” Kerry said. “Unless you count my intern during my second year of residency. Though, technically, he wasn’t a colleague and technically, I didn’t hit him.”

Susan laughed, but it quickly turned into a yawn. 

“Well, as much as I’d like to hear about that,” Susan said, stretching, “I should head to bed. You’ll have to save it for another time.”

“Of course.”

Susan stood up and stretched again, letting out a long groan. She turned back to Kerry.

“Okay. Well, I’m glad we talked and sorted this out and now we can act like grownups again. Right?”

Kerry rested her chin in her hand, her elbow propped on the back of the couch.

“Mmm-hmm. As long you stop saying ‘grownups’ instead of ‘adults’.”

“I have a year-and-a-half year old daughter. Bite me.”

Susan walked to the door and picked up the diaper bag from where she had dropped it. She slung it across her shoulder and crossed the living room, picking up toys as she went. 

She tucked them in the toy box underneath the window. Once they were squared away, she passed behind the couch where Kerry sat, quietly watching her. 

Finally, Susan bade Kerry goodnight as she passed and Kerry muttered the same thing in return, though she barely even registered she’d said it. 

All she could think about was the feeling of Susan’s hand brush against her back as she passed by the couch. Kerry was convinced it had lingered there, if only for a moment. 

But… why? 

The whole encounter couldn’t have lasted longer than, what, five seconds? Ten at most? So, why was she convinced Susan’s hand had lingered? Why did it matter?

Kerry paused, her already fast brain working overtime as she tried to process everything. Slowly, as if it would give her the answer, her gaze moved to the basement door. 

No. No, there was no way. She didn’t… she  _ couldn’t.. _ . After all, she wasn’t…

Kerry sat there for another ten minutes, just staring at the basement door. 

Maybe she was.


	8. Chapter 8

To say that Susan enjoyed her days off with Suzie were an understatement. 

Those days made her day, her week… hell, they made her  _ life _ . Just her and her daughter and nothing to keep them apart. 

There had been part of Susan that tried not to let herself get too attached prior to the custody hearing. The looming threat that Chloe could appear out of nowhere and take Suzie away from her had made her hold back the part of her heart ready and willing to give itself away to the baby. 

But Suzie was hers now. Hers, now and forever, and that meant that there was nothing holding Susan’s heart back. It gave itself willingly in every moment she spent with Suzie, in every word she spoke of her and to her, and in every thought of her in between.

Though all moments she shared with Suzie ranked highly in Susan’s mind, bathtimes were by far the best. 

The master bathroom had a corner tub. Susan would fill it part way with warm water and a little bit of bubble bath before placing Suzie and her bath floatie. They would play with the bubbles and the rubber ducks and giggle as Susan gently rubbed the washcloth over every part of Suzie she could reach. 

Once, Susan returned home with Suzie after a long day in the ER exhausted and in need of a shower. On a whim, she decided to fill the bathtub up and got in with Suzie. 

One end of the tub was slanted slightly like a seat. Susan settled in, holding Suzie on her legs, letting the warmth of the water ease her tired muscles. 

The toddler on her lap could barely more than babble, but she didn’t need words to convey to Susan exactly how happy this new development made her. 

“I know, sweetie!” Susan said happily as the toddler cooed in excitement. “Mommy’s taking a bath too! It’s very exciting. ”

Suzie clapped, smiling broadly, which made Susan smile even more. 

“Okie doke. Let’s see,” Susan said, picking up the washcloth from the side of the tub and wetting it in the bathwater. “What should we talk about today, hmmm? Well… there was a man today at mommy’s work who got  _ really _ \- no, I probably shouldn’t tell you about that.”

Susan put a little bit of baby soap on the washcloth and began washing Suzie. 

“What else can I tell you? The GSW? The MVA? The little old lady who fell down the stairs?” Susan asked rhetorically. “No. How about politics? You want to talk about politics, Suzie? Huh? Do ya?”

Suzie wiggled in delight and babbled something in reply. She splashed a rubber duck against the bathwater as if to make her point. 

“Oh, so you want to talk about politics? Well, mommy doesn’t, so, we’re not going to.”

Suzie babbled something else. Susan scooped some of the water and poured it over Suzie’s chest. 

“Really, it doesn’t matter what I tell you as long as I say it in a very happy voice, right, Suzie?” Susan asked in her highest, happiest voice. “Even if it isn’t really happy?”

Suzie splashed the duck in the water again. Susan squeezed the duck so that it squeaked, which made Suzie giggle. 

“I wish I could always tell you happy things, my dear,” Susan said, her happy voice fading back into its normal timbre. “I wish I could tell you stories where everyone gets their happy ever after and  _ believe  _ it. But mommy doesn’t see that many happily ever afters and sometimes when you don’t see that many happily ever afters, you start to believe that they don’t happen.”

Suzie squeezed the duck and managed to make it squeak. She looked up to Susan, her eyes wide with pride, and held the duck up to show Susan her accomplishment. Susan squeaked the duck again and kissed the inside of Suzie’s palm.

“I wish I could tell you stories like I believed in when I was little. Stories where there were these huge adventures and the hero always beat the bad guy. Where people explored the world and learned new things and got into sword fights. I think I still believe in some of those stories. The ones where you explore and learn new things, at least. The sword fights, not so much. I think that ended when I learned what it looked like to be on the wrong end of a sword fight.”

Susan scooped another handful of water and poured it over Suzie’s head. The toddler flinched and spluttered, leading Susan to pick up a towel and gently wipe the water from her eyes. All the while, Susan felt tears well in her own eyes.

“I wish I could promise you that you will always be happy, Suzie. That you will get everything you want and that life is going to be easy for you. But I can’t promise you that. No matter how much I want to promise you that, I can’t. We don’t always get happy endings and life isn’t always easy. 

“But the one thing I  _ can  _ promise you, Suzie, is that you will always be loved. No matter how far away you are or how much trouble you’re in, I will always be on your side. I will always come and find you and take care of you. I’m yours, my love. I’m yours forever. And ever and ever and ever. And nothing can change that, okay, Suzie? Nothing can ever change that.”

Somewhere during Susan’s monologue, Suzie had been drawn to Susan. She sat still, listening to her mother pour her heart out to her, her big blue eyes wide and watching. 

“You are my happily ever after, Suzie,” Susan whispered, breaking into a watery smile.

At the sign of her mother’s smile, Suzie started to smile again too. Susan leaned forward to kiss Suzie on the forehead. 

“Sorry, my love. Mommy didn’t mean to start crying on you,” Susan apologized, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Guess it was a bit of a bad day at work, huh?”

Suzie babbled a reply before sticking the duck in her mouth. Susan chuckled and pulled it out, much to Suzie’s chagrin. 

“You can have it back once mommy’s done cleaning you up,” Susan said in response to Suzie’s whines. “Actually, mommy will give you one that hasn’t been in the yucky water. How about it, Suzie?”

Suzie continued whining and grabbing for the duck. Susan just kept chuckling and tried to finish with the washcloth and subsequent shampoo as quickly as she could. 

 

The cold of October had set in too fast in Susan’s opinion, though she realized later it might have seemed fast because October was already over and she hadn’t even realized it had begun.

If someone had asked what clued her in, she would have said the dates on the tops of the multiple charts she read every day. But, in reality, it was the Halloween decorations that had sprung up throughout the ER.

“Hey, Susan, that HR lady is on the phone again,” Jerry said, holding the receiver against his chest. “Something about ‘adding a dependent to your health insurance’?”

Susan rolled her eyes and leaned up against the admit desk. 

“Ugh. Just tell her I’ll call her back later.”

Jerry opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the lights flickered off and then back on. Mark appeared at Susan’s shoulder.

“Jerry!”

“I know, I know. I called maintenance four times. They’re working on it,” the desk clerk said, listening to the now-dead phone line and replacing the receiver. 

“Maybe it’s the ghost up on the fifth floor,” Susan offered, nudging Mark playfully. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“Not you too.”

“It’s a true story, Mark! It’s up there!” Lydia pushed. 

“Poor guy,” Susan said, shaking her head. “Still pining away for the woman he loved.”

Lydia looked from the chart in her hand up to Susan. 

“I thought he broke her heart.”

“Broke his own heart is more like it,” Susan replied. 

“And how do you know this?” Mark asked, brow raised. 

“Because that’s the story. It was Halloween night, the 1930s or something. There was rain and thunder and lightning. He was a doctor, she was an intern…” 

It wasn’t lost on Susan that she could recount a ghost story so easily when the thought of telling Suzie a story that night in the bathtub had prompted an emotional outpouring of love and promises. 

She chalked it up to the fact that this one didn’t have a happy ending. 

“She loved him, didn’t she?” Lily asked, her eyes wide as she listened. 

At that moment, Susan caught a flash of red hair across the room. Her eyes followed the source only to see a ginger patient with an IV pole returning to their bed. 

It took a moment, but Susan tore her eyes from the patient and looked back to the listening group.

“A really wealthy, handsome patient had fallen in love with her and asked her to marry him.”

“What did she say?” Chuny asked, she too now engaged. 

“She didn’t know what to say. So… she told the doctor.”

“What did he say?”

There was another flash of red hair and, without thinking, Susan’s eyes snapped to this one too.

It was Kerry, standing farther down the hallway, deep in conversation with Donald Anspaugh. He must have said something funny given the way Kerry threw her head back in laughter. 

“He said nothing.”

“I though he loved her!” Lily cut in. 

“He did love her,” Susan said, still watching the exchange between Kerry and Anspaugh. “But he just stood there, he couldn’t get the words out. And then, after she walked across the room, she turned back and looked at him. She put her hand to her lips, and blew him what would be their first and only kiss.”

Susan tore her eyes away from the conversation across the room and back to her captive audience. She leaned forward towards them. 

“They say it blew through him like a rush of cold wind.”

“That’s so sad,” Chuny said aloud, voicing what the rest of the group was already thinking.

“What happened?” Jerry asked, ignoring the phone ringing next to him.

Susan shrugged. 

“Unfortunately, the doc fell out the fifth floor window, so that’s kind of it.”

“I’m sure they worked on him in the OR for a while,” Mark added.

The group laughed as lightning flashed outside the ambulance bay doors. 

“Where you headed?” Mark asked as Susan swapped out charts. 

“Uh…” She checked the chart. “Curtain Three. You?”

“Curtain… Five.”

They both started down the hall in the direction of their respective destinations.

“So, are you going to the party at the Jazz Note tonight? Haleh’s singing.”

Susan groaned. 

“Dammit. I forgot. I’m taking Suzie trick-or-treating tonight,” Susan said. “I found this  _ adorable  _ butterfly costume the other day when I was out shopping. She absolutely hates wearing it, but she looks too darn cute. I know you’re not supposed to force things on your kids, but if the worst thing I do is make her wear a cute Halloween costume when she’s too young to remember it, she’ll live.”

Mark was quiet for a second. 

“Great,” he said, his tone clearly disappointed. “If you’re not there, I get to just sit there alone and watch Weaver suck up to Anspaugh.”

Susan’s mind immediately jumped to the memory of Kerry and Anspaugh talking across the room while she stood at the desk. 

That was it - sucking up. That’s probably why Kerry had been laughing so hard at whatever he said. 

“... Belittling me, disparaging me,” Mark continued, his comment unfortunately made at the same time Susan snapped out of her thoughts. “Doing everything she can to tighten her grip on that tenure spot.”

Susan stopped and laid a restraining hand on Mark to halt him too.

“Mark.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Mark muttered. “I forgot I’m not supposed to say that kind of stuff in front of you.”

Susan played the comment off in an effort to be comforting, though he was right.

“This whole tenure thing. There’s only one spot and it’s going to come down to her or me.” Mark shook his head. “She just makes everything so... competitive.”

“You’re a doctor. You love competition,” Susan pointed out. “Hell, I’ve seen you challenge surgical residents to suturing contests.”

“It’s just… You know what? Forget it.”

He started to walk away again, but Susan pulled him back.

“Come on, Mark. Forget about her for a second,” Susan said, not hearing the irony of her own words as she was almost distracted by another flash of red hair nearby. “I think you’re getting a little obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

“Alright, a little myopic then.”

Mark blinked. 

“What?”

“I mean… your wife divorced you. You hardly ever get to see Rachel. This job is all you care about,” Susan said, her tone and her touch much softer. “I hate to see you get caught up in all the drama and lose sight of why you like it, you know?”

Then, Susan perked up as she was struck with an idea.

“You should go trick-or-treating with us.”

Mark rubbed the back of his head with his hand, unsure. 

“Is your roomie going to be there?”

“No, she’ll be at the party sucking up to Anspaugh, remember?”

Mark’s hand dropped.

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“Come on,” Susan said cheerfully. “It’ll just be you, me, Suzie, and a bag of candy she’s too young to eat. What could be better?”

Mark considered the offer for a moment. 

“Do I have to wear a costume?”

“Uh… yeah? It’s Halloween. You have to.”

Mark paused again and then glanced down at his clothes. 

“Can I go as a doctor?”

Susan rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. 

“I  _ guess _ ,” she said with a huge sigh. “If you want to be lame.”

“What’s lame about it? Kids love doctors.”

Doug Ross stepped out of the room next to them at that exact moment, a piece of gauze held tightly in his hand. The sound of a parent trying to subdue their rowdy kid grew loud for a moment until Doug shut the door behind him. 

“Well,” Mark said. “Kids love every doctor except Doug.”

Doug gave him a sarcastic smile and flipped Mark off with his gauzed hand before Carol appeared and ushered him off to irrigate the wound.

Mark was about to ask Susan what exactly  _ she _ was going to dress up as when Jerry ran out into the hallway, phone coil trailing behind him.

“Hey. Dr. Lewis!” he shouted. “Phone for you.”

Susan sighed and then turned, her hands raised in frustration.

“Oh my God, Jerry. Just tell her I’m in a trauma and I’m physically holding the guy’s liver in place or something, okay?” Susan instructed. “I’ll call her back later.”

Jerry closed the gap between them as much as the phone cord would let him. 

“It’s not the HR lady. It’s your sister, Chloe. She said she’s back in town, is staying at your dad’s place, and really wants to see you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Susan stood, hand raised to knock. 

It felt silly, really. Ever since her dad had started helping take care of Suzie, knocking on the door was more to announce her presence than to request permission to enter. She’d typically knock once or twice and then open the door. 

But right now, she was frozen in place.

Part of her brain was screaming to turn around and run away. Forget this, forget Chloe. Go be with Suzie. Go trick-or-treating and pretend that everything was okay.

Whether by intuition or by accident, the door opened in front of her, making Susan’s decision for her. 

“Oh good. Susan. You’re here.” Henry sighed with relief. He looked fit to burst with happiness. “Come in, come in.” 

Susan didn’t say anything as she was ushered inside.

There she was. 

Chloe, standing in front of the TV. 

She looked better than Susan was willing to admit. Her clothes looked new and clean, her hair was pulled up and looked freshly trimmed, and from what Susan could see of her forearms, there were no track marks. 

Still, Susan stopped a good distance away, her arms crossed resolutely in front of her. She cast Chloe a look of disappointment that came across as great disdain. 

Regardless, Chloe raised her arms and stepped forward to hug Susan. But the moment she got within arms length, Susan tensed so fiercely that Chloe’s instinctive reaction was to back away.

“Susan, it’s so good to see you-”

“Where the hell have you been?”

Chloe’s shoulders dropped slightly, as if she was hoping that they wouldn’t reach this topic so quickly. 

“Look. I know that it hasn’t been-”

_ “Where the hell have you been?” _

The contempt in Susan’s voice was so strong that it was a wonder Chloe didn’t recoil. 

“I’ve been in Arizona, in-in Phoenix. I’ve been trying to get my life together,” Chloe explained. “I wanted to make a good life. For Suzie, you know. And I think I have! I’ve got a job and a fiancé and-and I’ve been clean for five months.”

Susan raised her eyebrows.

“Well, that’s great Chloe. But what happens in month six?”

“Susan,” Henry said in voice both warning and concerned. 

Susan looked to him and then back to Chloe, her expression neutral.

“What? I think it’s a good question,” Susan said with a shrug. “I mean… what’s your record, Chloe? Twelve months? Thirteen? You get all the way to a year. You get the chip and then you fall apart again. I’ve seen it half a dozen times.”

“But this time, it’s different. I promise, Suze. I’m diff-”

“I’ve heard that before too.”

Henry stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Susan’s shoulder.

“Suze,” he said in a low, calm voice, “I think you should listen to your sister. I really think she’s changed and I think you should at least hear her out.”

Susan shrugged his hand off and stepped back from him too.

“Really?” she said incredulously. “She’s been gone for over a year and the moment she comes back, you’re ready to just forgive and forget? She _ abandoned her child _ , dad. She left without warning, high as a kite, and fell off the face of the earth.”

“Susan, I know this isn’t easy for you-”

“You’re fucking right it’s not easy for me,” Susan snapped. “I’m just the one who stepped in to clean up her fucking mess. Like I have  _ over  _ and  _ over  _ again my entire life.”

“All she wants is to talk to you like adults,” Henry said, his resolve and hope melting with every angry word out of Susan. “And to see Suzie.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Suze, please,” Chloe cut in. “She’s my daughter. I just want to see her.”

“Oh,  _ now  _ she’s your daughter, is she? Took you long enough to get there, didn’t it?” Susan said with derision. “Is that why you took so long to come back, Chloe? Wait long enough for her  to become someone else’s problem? Just wait it out until you don’t have to do the hard part anymore?”

“Susan, she’s my daughter,” Chloe said firmly. “I’ve got a right.”

“No. You don’t. You don’t have any rights to her. She’s not your daughter anymore.”

Chloe blanched. 

“What… what-what are you talking about?” she said in a horrified whisper. “You gave her- you gave her  _ up _ ? For-for adoption?”

“No, Chloe,  _ you _ gave her up for adoption. You were gone for over six months. You forfeited your rights to her.”

Chloe looked between Susan and Henry, panic growing in her eyes and heart. 

“You didn’t… you-you couldn’t,” Chloe said, her voice breaking. “You gave her away?”

“Dad didn’t tell you?” It was Susan’s turn to look between Chloe and Henry, whose eyes were wide as he realized the weight of this accidental omission. “No, I didn’t ‘give her away’. I adopted her. You left her in my care, remember? You left her to  _ me _ . And when you disappeared and it looked like you weren’t coming back, I did what I had to do.”

“But you got my card at Christmas, right?” Chloe asked hopefully.

The panic was still evident in her voice, though the knowledge that Suzie hadn’t left the family had calmed her considerably. 

“I did,” Susan confirmed, before quickly adding, “and it was enough to let me know that you were alive. But not much else.”

“I wanted to do more,” Chloe said. She took a cautious step forward and halted at Susan’s warning glare. “I’ve worked really hard to get my life back together. I want to do the hard part- I want to be the mom she deserves. That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

“Well, it’s too late for that, Chloe,” Susan said. She shook her head. “She’s already got the mom she deserves. And it’s sure as hell not you.”

Susan turned for the door. As she raised her hand to turn the knob, Chloe lunged forward to stop her. 

“Just let me see her. Please, Suze,” Chloe begged. “Please just let me see her. She’s my daughter.”

“Dad’s got pictures,” Susan said flatly as she turned the handle. 

Chloe followed her all the way downstairs and out of the building. She was fast, but Susan was faster.

She had to be. One misstep, one tiny hesitation, and Chloe would pull her right back in. She would get sucked into the mess and the mayhem and would end up sucked right back into the soul-leeching black hole that that was Chloe Lewis. 

Susan had nearly reached the street and had started to look both ways to cross before Chloe grabbed her hand and turned her around.

“She’s my daughter, Susan,” Chloe repeated. “Just let me see her.”

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” Susan said, shaking her head in an attempt to calm the anger bubbling inside her. “But I require minimum five years sobriety before you get to be involved in Suzie’s life again. Until then, no such luck.”

At the prospect of Susan holding true to her words, Chloe’s hurt and anger galvanized. Without thinking, she shoved Susan hard with both hands. Susan stumbled backwards, landing on her ass in the little patch of grass between the sidewalk and the road. 

“You think you’re  _ so much better _ than the rest of us,” Chloe spat before her voice turned jeering. “Oh, look. It’s ‘Perfect Susan’. She never does anything wrong. Always playing the goddamn martyr and haas to do everything herself because no one else is good enough to help her. Well, face it, Suze. You can’t do raise a kid alone. You need help. You need dad’s help. You need  _ my  _ help.”

“Just because  _ you _ can’t raise a kid alone, Chloe, doesn’t mean no one can.” 

Susan stood up and dusted off her pants. 

She turned and saw a bunch of trick-or-treaters who had been making their rounds stopped several feet away to watch the argument. Susan cast their nearby parents a warning look and they all immediately stepped forward to ushered the kids away. She thought she caught one of them muttering things about that behavior ‘not being okay’, though they themselves kept looking over their shoulders to catch a glimpse of what came next.

Next to Susan, Chloe stood, breathing heavy. Her anger had been replaced with regret the moment she saw Susan hit the ground, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to reclaim what was hers in any way she could.

“Susan. Don’t do this alone,” Chloe said in a low voice. “Let me help you.”

Susan had to hand it to Chloe; she had an awful lot of nerve.

The woman in front of her had abandoned her child, disappeared for a year, and honestly believed that she could come back and just pick up where she left off. That she could just offer her help and Susan would accept it.  

Susan looked at Chloe closely for a moment, considering what accepting her help would look like. Or, more appropriately, what kind of bind she’d be left in when Chloe inevitable disappeared again. 

But, now that Susan thought about it, she  _ wouldn’t  _ be left in a bind. She had Kerry. 

Kerry had been helping her for months and would probably help as long as Susan accepted it. . Hell, the only thing Chloe had done for Suzie that was more helpful than anything Kerry had done was actually giving birth to her.

Susan pulled herself up straight and looked Chloe straight in the eye.

“I’m not doing it alone,” Susan said simply. Susan took a deep breath. “Have a nice life, Chloe.”

At the sight of Susan turning back for the road, the anger Chloe thought had dissipated returned in a rush. 

“You can’t keep her from me, Susan!” Chloe shouted. “I’m her mother!”

Susan spun around and raised a finger in Chloe’s face. 

“ _ No, _ ” Susan snarled. “ _ I’m  _ her mother. You forfeited that title when you  _ didn’t come back _ .”


	10. Chapter 10

By the time Susan unlocked the front door and stepped inside, the plan was already formulated in her head.  

She kicked off her shoes and turned around just in time to see Kerry stick her head out from the kitchen. At the sight of her, Susan felt the tension that had been building in her chest since setting foot in her parent’s house start to ease a bit. 

“I was starting to get worried,” Kerry said as Susan made her way into the kitchen. “I went ahead and put Suzie down. I know you prefer to do that, but it was getting late and she was getting fussy. I wasn’t sure when you were going to get back.”

Kerry resumed her preparation of tomorrow’s lunch. She pulled a tomato out of the fridge and set it down on the cutting board on the island. Susan, who had just been standing where the wood floor of the kitchen met the carpet, staring at the wall, jerked back to the present. 

She looked up at Kerry. 

“What?”

“I said that I put Suzie to bed,” Kerry repeated. She set down the knife in her hand. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Susan said, waving Kerry away.

Susan stood for a moment, looking back at the wall, deep in thought. Then she nodded to herself and turned towards the living room. She began peering around the end tables and shuffling things on the desk.

“What are you looking for?”

“Oh, uh… nothing,” Susan lied, as if Kerry couldn’t see her. 

“Susan,” Kerry said in a firm voice. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Susan replied. She stopped her searching for a moment and let out a sigh. “Nothing I want to talk about right now. Aha!”

Susan pulled a little green book from beneath a pile of medical journals on one of the bookshelves. She flipped through it for a second before stopping on the page she sought. She grabbed the cordless phone from its holder and dialing the number. 

It rang for a moment before someone picked up.

“Hi. Is this Rochelle?” Susan asked. “Hi. My name is Susan. I was wondering if you would be available tonight from about… let’s say, ten to about one? Yeah. Yes, of course… Ten… Okay, fine. Twelve. But that’s as high as I’m going… Perfect… Yes, the address is, uh, 324 West Concord... Great. Thank you so much. I’ll see you then.”

Kerry frowned.

“Who was that?”

Susan crossed the kitchen and took a seat on the barstool at the island. 

“Babysitter.” 

Kerry clicked her tongue. 

“Susan, I’m  _ here _ . If you want to go out, I’ll stay with Suzie. You don’t need to call a babysitter.”

“Yes, I  _ do _ ,” Susan pushed back, “because you’re going with me.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Kerry asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Go where? Where are we going”

“Out,” Susan answered. 

At Kerry’s hard expression, Susan let out a heavy sigh. She buried her face in her hands.

“Chloe’s back,” Susan said, her words muffled slightly by the presence of her fingers over her mouth 

“Chloe as in… your sister Chloe?” Kerry asked slowly.

Susan nodded. She pulled her face out of her hands and rested them on her temples.

“Yes, my sister Chloe,” Susan confirmed. “She called the ER earlier. Probably because my number changed and she didn’t know. And- and she’s staying at my parent’s house, so I went there after work and…”

Susan pressed her fingers into her forehead, that lingering tension moving from her chest into her hands. 

“And she… she wants to see Suzie. She just wants to waltz back in and pretend none of this ever happened. And my dad is ready to let her.”

Susan’s hands balled into fists.

“I can’t let her do this again,” Susan said through gritted teeth. “I can’t let her just come in and pretend everything’s okay, because it’s not. I don’t care if she says that she’s better and she’s different and… Am I just supposed to believe her? Just take her at her word and trust that this time she won’t fuck it up? 

“And she has the gall to act like _I’m_ the bad guy if I don’t give her another chance? _God_ , I’ve given her _so many_ _chances_. I’ve always let her try again, but… but, you know what? Not this time. I’m done giving her second chances. She’s - she’s gone too far this time and I’m not going to let her back into Suzie’s life just because she asks for it.”

Susan exhaled deeply through her nose. She set her hands down on the table. 

“I’m tired of having to be the responsible one,” Susan said in a low voice. “I’m tired of having to be rational and reasonable when everyone around me seems to get a pass and I am  _ tired _ of people getting mad at me for it.”

Susan looked up at Kerry, who had been intently listening to Susan rant. The tomato and cutting board sat forgotten in front of her. 

Susan cocked her head.

“Is that how you feel all the time? Like.. at work?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

“And how do you deal with that?”

Kerry shrugged and busied herself with cutting the tomato again. 

“Well… I remind myself that it’s in the patient’s best interest and that doing the right thing means that you’re not always going to be liked.”

Susan considered this for a moment, nodding slightly.

“And how do you stop yourself from killing everyone?”

Kerry chuckled.

“Uh… a good book, a glass of wine, and a healthy fear of prison.”

Susan laughed appreciatively before she suddenly remembered something.

“It’s a good thing you said ‘wine’,” she said, glancing up at the wall. “The babysitter will be here in about… twenty-five minutes or so. We should get changed.” 

“Changed? Susan, you still haven’t said what we’re  _ doing _ .”

“We’re going out and we’re getting drunk,” Susan informed her as if it was the clearest thing on earth. “Now go change.”

“I don’t really think that’s a good idea…”

“Yes, it  _ is _ ,” Susan corrected. “We need a night of not being reasonable or responsible. And, to me, that sounds like alcohol.”

“We have to work tomorrow-”

“No, we don’t. You’re off and I’m not on until tomorrow night.”

Kerry shook her head. She was running out excuses.

“Alright, but I’m not really a… ‘go out and party’ kind of person. Maybe, you should call one of your other friends-”

“I don’t want to go out with my other friends,” Susan said, cutting Kerry off. “I want to go out with you. So, go change.”

Kerry let out what seemed like an exasperated sigh in an effort to hide the elation bubbling in her chest.

“Well, what am I supposed to change into exactly?” Kerry asked, tossing the knife into the sink behind her. “A costume? It’s still technically Halloween.”

“No, no,” Susan said, crossing to the basement door. “You know. Something you’d wear out to a party or something.”

And with that, Susan disappeared into the basement. 

Kerry finished slicing the tomato and put the pieces into a Tupperware and stowed it in the fridge before making her way back into her own room to figure out what she was going to wear.

 

Susan slid the dress over her head and had to admit she was relieved it still fit.

It was a spaghetti strap blue dress with a golden filigree print. She had bought a while ago and hadn’t gotten the chance to wear it for anything (as working twelve-hour shifts in an emergency room and taking care of an infant could do that to you).

She turned around in the mirror, pulling down her ponytail as she did so. She flipped her head over and ran the brush through it before flipping upright again.

God, she hadn’t been this excited to go out since she got a fake ID in college. 

The rational part of her brain that she intended to give a vacation tonight warned her that drinking away her problems was  _ not _ the best way to solve them. But the part of her brain currently  _ dealing _ with those problems told her that it might not be a permanent solution, but it’ll take what it can get. 

Susan crept out of the bathroom, shoes in hand. She checked that Suzie was still asleep, careful not to wake her in doing so, before making her way upstairs and back into the kitchen. 

Kerry was seated at the kitchen island waiting for her. She stood up as soon as the basement door opened. 

If Kerry had any doubts of her feelings for Susan prior to this moment, seeing her in that dress with her hair down and her makeup on would have quashed any doubt. 

(Un)lucky for her, denial was a helluva drug.

“You look… you look great.”

“Thanks.” Susan put one of her earrings in. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Kerry looked down at the outfit and back up to Susan.

“Is it bad? I told you I don’t really do this-”

Kerry’s voice faded off as Susan observed her closely for a minute, her eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. Kerry waited, fighting her natural instinct to tell Susan off. 

“Lose the blazer,” Susan said, concluding her study. “It makes you look like you’re at work.”

Kerry shrugged out of the blazer as instructed and set it carefully on the counter. She looked down again. 

“Now my arms are exposed,” Kerry said, motioning to the sleeveless burgundy top she wore beneath the blazer. 

“Yes, and they look great.”

The casualness of her tone was the only thing preventing Kerry from blushing. Susan was like this to everybody.

“It’s freezing out there. I’ll freeze.  _ You’ll  _ freeze.”

“Eh, you’ll be fine once we get some alcohol in you. It’ll warm you right up.”

Susan almost laughed at how wide Kerry’s eyes got at the comment.

“That is  _ not _ the right answer. Susan, you’re a doctor. You know better.”

“I’m not a doctor tonight,” Susan said firmly. She raised a finger at Kerry. “And neither are you. Remember? No being rational  _ or _ reasonable. Got it? Now, I need to call a cab.”

Kerry raised an eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t calling a cab be the  _ reasonable _ thing to do?”

Susan rolled her eyes and picked up the phone. 

“I mean ‘not reasonable’ as in ‘get drunk and forget your problems’, not ‘end up on the trauma table because you were an idiot’.”

Kerry watched Susan dial the phone. 

She was sure,  _ very  _ sure actually, that alcohol would not help her forget her problems at all. It couldn’t, really, or at least it wouldn’t have a fair shot at it, seeing as her biggest problem right now was the one insisting she go out tonight.


	11. Chapter 11

No more than ten minutes had passed before the babysitter arrived and Susan and Kerry were sliding into the back of a cab at the curb. 

“Where to?” the cab driver asked as he started the meter.

“Um…” It struck Susan that she hadn’t planned this far ahead. “Do you know anywhere that’s not, you know, crazy busy tonight?”

“Lady, it’s Halloween.  _ Everything’s  _ busy tonight.”

“I know, I know. But… do you at least have any ideas?”

The cab driver thought for a second.

“There’s a jazz club not too far from here. Kind of a hole-in-the-wall place. Probably won’t be too  busy.”

“Perfect. Let’s go there.”

Where Susan sighed in relief as the driver pulled off, Kerry only grew more anxious. 

Holding her crutch in front of her gave her a reason not to fidget at least. But she could see Susan’s dress out of the corner of her eye. 

She wanted to look closer at the designs on it but that would inevitably mean moving closer to Susan. And looking at the dress would inevitably mean looking at Susan. And looking at Susan would mean looking at Susan’s smile and Susan’s hair and Susan’s neck....

Susan had been right. Kerry felt very warm, even without long sleeves.

“I didn’t even think about painting my nails,” Susan said, looking at her hands. “God, I don’t even know if I  _ own _ nail polish anymore. I think I threw it all out back in med school. What about you?”

Kerry didn’t answer. She had directed her attention out the window, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. 

Susan felt bad. Maybe Kerry  _ was  _ cold after all. She thought for a second about scooting over closer to her, but the other woman had her closed-off,  _ don’t-even-think-about-it _ body language going. Susan knew better than to test that.

The club was called Deirdre’s and both Susan and Kerry were relieved when those coming out of the door wore clothes similar to theirs and not Halloween makeup or masks.

Inside, it reminded Susan of the Jazz Note and, with a pang, she thought of Mark. It felt their conversation about trick-or-treating had been ages ago, instead of only a few hours. She wondered if he’d ended up going to the party alone after all. At least he didn’t have to watch Kerry suck up to Anspaugh as she’d picked up Suzie and taken her home when Susan told her that she couldn’t.

Susan led them both to the bar. 

“Okay, let’s do… four tequila shots and I need something to sip on...” Her eyes roamed the selection of liquor behind the bar. “Let’s do an Amaretto Sour.”

“Can I see some ID?”

“Ah, you’re too kind,” Susan said chuckling before holding up her license. 

The bartender nodded and started mixing the drinks. Kerry spotted an open table and pointed it out to Susan before going over to claim it. Susan met her there, hands full, a few minutes later. 

“Here,” she said, sliding two of the shots towards Kerry. At the hesitant look on the redhead’s face, she started to slide them back. “Okay, fine. If you don’t want them, I’ll drink them-”

Kerry’s hand shot out and slid the shots back towards her. 

“No, I’ll do them,” she said firmly, “if only to make sure you don’t.”

Susan smiled and had to admit she was looking forward to seeing what her tightly-wound colleague was like loosened up a little bit. 

“Together?”

Kerry nodded, shaking her arm out of her crutch and setting it against the table, as if seriously preparing herself for the task at hand.

“On three. One… two… three.”

They both threw their heads back as they took the shot at the same time. Immediately, they both made faces of disgust and frantically tried to shove the limes on the rim of the shot glasses into their mouths. 

Susan coughed a couple times, but enjoyed the burn of the strong alcohol against her throat. Kerry, on the other hand, looked ready to vomit.

“Not a tequila person?” Susan joked as Kerry grabbed for Susan’s Amaretto Sour to get the taste out of her mouth.

“The taste reminds me too much of the smell of the bathroom in my college dorm on Sunday mornings.”

Susan stuck her tongue out, her face scrunched up in humored disgust at the thought of why that may be. 

“Where’d you go to undergrad?”

“Case Western,” Kerry answered. At the puzzled look on Susan’s face, she added, “in Cleveland.”

Susan nodded in understanding and took her second shot. 

Not typically a lightweight, Susan tried to figure out why she was already feeling the effects of the first shot. Then, she remembered she hadn’t eaten anything since her bagel that morning. 

Eh. What the hell. The point  _ was _ to get drunk, right? At least this way, she wouldn’t need to spend too much more money. 

“And you went to Northwestern for med school, right?” Susan asked, continuing the conversation. Kerry nodded. “You really like the ‘westerns’, don’t you?”

“That was just a happy accident,” Kerry replied. “I  _ wanted  _ to go to Stanford.”

Susan’s leaned forward, her brow raising at the implications of what the statement meant. She rested her elbows on the table and dropped her voice. 

“You mean you didn’t get in?”

Kerry took a deep breath and then downed the other shot. She sucked on the lime for a second before nodding.

“ _ Really? _ ” Susan asked in shock, the alcohol removing any filter she might have otherwise had towards the question. 

“I got an interview,” Kerry explained. “I flew out there, and the moment I walked in the room, I knew exactly what they were thinking. Which sucked, because it was probably one of my better interviews. But, I don’t know if that was because it was good or if I was trying harder.”

“Couldn’t you report them or something?” Susan asked. “If you thought it could be, you know, discrimination or something?”

Kerry shook her head, something she immediately regretted, given how dizzy it made her. She  _ was  _ typically a lightweight, so two shots doing the job didn’t necessarily surprise her. However,  she wished that she’d slowed down a bit so as not to lose her better judgement too fast. 

“It’s a very hard thing to prove. It’s rarely ever someone calling you names or something,” Kerry continued. “Besides, it was the mid-eighties. I couldn’t do anything about it. The law didn’t exist yet.”

“What do you mean the law didn’t exist yet?”

“The Americans with Disabilities Act wasn’t passed until 1990. I was already a resident before there were any legal protections.”

Susan stared, unsure if her surprise was that she didn’t know this fact about the ADA sooner or if it was because of the alcohol.

“It’s… it’s not even ten years old yet,” Susan said, the simple math involved made difficult by the tequila. “That’s… well, that’s bullshit. Stanford would have been  _ lucky _ to have you. I know we are.”

Kerry felt the familiar blush creep up her cheeks and hoped to all hell that Susan thought it was the alcohol and nothing else. 

“I don’t know if our colleagues necessarily believe that.”

“Well…” Susan said, elongating the word as she considered Kerry’s response. “Well, if they don’t, then  _ fuck _ ‘em.”

“Susan,  _ you _ didn’t believe that.”

For a second, Kerry looked completely serious and Susan felt an ice cube had slipped into her stomach. But then the petite redhead smiled and Susan felt the ice melt, evaporate, and warm her almost as much as the tequila.

“Well, _ I _ have seen the error of my ways,” Susan stated. She took a sip of her drink. “We are very lucky to have you at County. And I am very lucky to have you as a friend.”

Kerry chuckled and shook her head.

“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk and I give you a good deal on rent.”

“No, no, it’s true!” Susan said adamantly. “It’s…”

Susan let out a heavy sigh. 

“God, it’s- it’s been a helluva year. If you told me a year ago that… that  _ this _ , all of this, was what my life would look like in a year, I’d have thought you were  _ nuts! _ And I’d be happy, because I  _ am  _ happy. I’m happy that I have Suzie. I am so,  _ so  _ happy to have Suzie. But… but I thought that it would be the same, you know? 

“I was taking care of Suzie then. I was handling it. But once- once it became real, once she became  _ mine _ , it’s like everything changed,” Susan said. “Everything but my family.  _ They _ didn’t change. And- and I honestly though they would. But they didn’t.

“I thought that maybe this time, they’d… God, that they’d be  _ proud  _ of me. For doing the right thing. O-or at least they’d understand that-that Chloe’s actions have  _ consequences  _ and they can’t always let her off the hook when she fucks up. But they did. They did it  _ again _ just as they have  _ every… fucking… time _ . And - and then they treat me shit when I clean up the mess… and I’m just tired of it.”

Susan looked up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. 

She was  _ not  _ a crying drunk, but alcohol had loosened her tongue and her heart and it was bringing up all those problems and all those feelings she had wanted to forget. 

“I just… I just had hope,” she said, her voice cracking. “I just had hope that maybe this time they would be different. But - but - but, I  _ know  _ better. Hope is stupid. We should never have hope.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“No, I don’t,” Susan admitted. “But I  _ feel  _ that. And I feel  _ stupid _ for involving them because I-I-I should have known. But I thought this  _ one  _ time, they’d… they’d be on my side. For once. They’d be on my side and they’d stay there.”

Susan closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing the tears out so she could wipe them away.

“But,” she said, taking a deep breath, “I can  _ un- _ involve them. I did it then because… because I thought I needed to. Because I thought I needed  _ them _ . But I don’t need them, because I’ve got you.

“You’ve - you’ve done more for me they did. You help me so much and - and… And I don’t to  _ hope  _ that you’re gonna stay on my side. I  _ know _ you will. And…” Susan took a deep breath. “And  _ that’s _ why I’m lucky you are my friend. No.  _ No _ . That’s why I’m lucky you’re my family.”

In that moment, Kerry wanted so much to take Susan’s hand and comfort her. But the alcohol her thoughts were swimming through prevented her from knowing if the she thought Susan wanted it or if she did.

Susan wiped her eyes again and then downed the rest of her drink.

“Okay. No more crying. Tonight is  _ not _ supposed to be about crying,” she said, putting her hands down on the table. “We should go dance.”

This was  _ not _ what Kerry had expected her to say and the mere thought of dancing in front of people, let alone with  _ Susan _ , made her tense.

“What? No. No, no, no.”

“Come  _ on _ ,” Susan said. “Please?”

“Susan- Susan,  _ no _ ,” she said as Susan tried to take her hand. “Susan, I don’t dance.”

“All you have to do is stand there and sway a little bit.” 

“People will… People will stare at us.”

“They’re drunk,” Susan replied. “They can’t stare at anything.”

Susan hadn’t seen Kerry work so hard to make a decision since the first time she had come over to Susan’s apartment eons ago. She squeezed Kerry’s hand encouragingly, but that only seemed to delay it more.

Finally, Kerry gulped and moved to pick up her crutch. But Susan waved her off. 

“Leave that here,” Susan instructed. “I’ve got you.”

“Susan-”

“I  _ promise _ ,” Susan said, cutting off any further argument. 

Susan stepped closer and put her arm around Kerry’s shoulders. She felt Kerry’s arm slide around her waist before she led the pair of them out onto the dance floor. It was a little selfish, she knew, but Susan quite liked the feeling of Kerry holding onto her so tightly. 

Once they were in a good spot, Susan turned and took one of Kerry’s hands in her own. For a second, Susan thought she might have accidentally shocked her in the way Kerry seemed to jolt at her touch. 

“Is… is this even  _ safe? _ ” Kerry whispered urgently, looking back and forth as if afraid someone was going to grab them.

“Yes,” Susan said, though perhaps if she were sober she might not have done so so confidently. “Now, relax. I’ve got you.”

As the last song died down, the band took a moment’s pause before the pianist started the next one. The woman singing was nowhere close to as good as Haleh, but was decent enough to be enjoyed. 

“ _ Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree; and I feel like I'm clingin' to a cloud... I can't understand, I get misty... just holding your hand _ ,” the woman crooned. “ _ Walk my way... and a thousand violins begin to play. Or it might be the sound of your hello, that music I hear... I get misty, the moment you're near _ .”

Susan remembered the song from jazz band in high school and hummed along. Nothing apart from Suzie had made her feel this good in so long. 

Kerry closed her eyes tight, as if not being able to see the object of her affection in front of her would somehow make this easier. But she could feel the soft vibration of Susan’s humming and her hand around her waist. It was both comforting and painful at the same time.

“ _ Can't you see that you're leading me on? And it's just what I want you to do. Don't you notice how hopelessly I'm lost? That's why I'm following you. _ ”

Did Susan know how hard this was for her? How hard it was to say no to her? For her. For Kerry Weaver, the  _ queen  _ of saying no. The queen of shutting other people out and sticking to what was comfortable, to what she knew, to the rules. 

This was uncomfortable. This went against everything she knew, against every rule she had for herself. 

“ _ On my own, when I wander through this wonderland alone… Never knowing my right foot from my left, my hat from my glove... I'm too misty, and too much in love. _ ”

Susan’s left hand was holding her right. Kerry could feel the small calluses from a lifetime of writing and charting and wondered if Susan noticed the not-so-small calluses from her own lifetime of holding her crutch.

Susan pulled Kerry closer to her as the band played the final few bars of the song. 

For a moment, she was sure that Susan could read her mind. That maybe,  _ just maybe _ , Susan felt the same way and had pulled her closer to show her that.

But she knew she was reading too much into it. The same way she had read too much into the way Susan touched her back that night they had talked, or the way Susan smiled whenever she saw her, or the way Susan’s compliments seemed to come so easily to her. 

Susan saw her as a friend. That was it. This was how Susan treated her friends. It wasn’t special. It wasn’t different. It was just Susan being her friend.

And she had to be okay with that.

“ _ Too misty… and too much in love…” _

Susan felt something damp against her shoulder. 

“Are you okay?”

Kerry opened her eyes and looked up at Susan.

“What?”

“You’re crying.”

“Am - am I?” Kerry stammered, releasing Susan’s hand to wipe her cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” Susan said, stepping back to look closer at Kerry. Her brow was furrowed with concern.

“Nothing, nothing,” Kerry said, shaking her head quickly.

The earlier dizziness returned and it, coupled with her crutch being several feet away, caused her to sway slightly. Susan held her tightly around the waist.

“Are you sure? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before,” Susan said, her voice now full of concern too. “Are- are you hurting? From the dancing?”

“What? No,” Kerry said, the ferocity with which she would normally answer such a question dampened by the alcohol and the tears. “I just… I’m just tired.”

Susan frowned, not believing her. But she knew better than to push too hard, especially tonight. 

“You want to sit down?”

Kerry nodded and Susan adjusted herself so that Kerry could hold onto her better. They made their way over to their table. Their table was tall, so Susan found an empty chair nearby and pulled it over for Kerry. She muttered a word of thanks and sat down. 

They sat and listened to the rest of the set in silence before Susan suggested they head home. 

Thanks to the holiday, cabs were plenty. Susan flagged one down and gave the cabbie the address.

“It wasn’t that bad of a place, you think?” Susan asked, trying to break the silence. “Reminded me of the Jazz Note.”

Kerry looked out the window, just like she had done on the way to the club.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I think we were some of the only two who didn’t go earlier,” Susan said. She was determined to keep the conversation going even if Kerry wouldn’t. “Though I wasn’t going to go anyway. I invited Mark to go trick-or-treating with me and Suzie.”

The mention of Mark’s name seemed to get Kerry’s attention.

“Mark Greene?”

“Yeah. What other ‘Mark’ is there?” Susan chuckled. “He was feeling a bit down, so I thought we could have fun.”

Kerry nodded, slowly at first and then a bit faster.

Susan Lewis and Mark Greene. Of course. That made much more sense. 

Kerry sighed, before turning to look back out the window.

She could (and would) compete with Mark Greene over anything. 

Running a trauma? Of course. Submitting research proposals? Easy. Trying to get tenure? With pleasure. When competing against each other, Kerry prided herself on her ability to win.

But if there was anything that could stop Kerry Weaver from competing for something she wanted, it was a fight she knew she could not win.


	12. Chapter 12

Susan had stood staring at Megan Herlihy through the NICU door for far longer than she should have. 

It took Abby Keaton passing by her a second time to finally break her concentration and get her feet to take her to the elevators and then back down to the ER. 

She gathered a bunch of charts, told Randi she’d be in the lounge, and made her escape. She’d only just settled in and began reading through the first chart on her pile when the door opened. 

“How are you doing?” Mark asked, crossing to the counter to pour himself a cup of (what passed for) coffee.

“Oh, you know. About as good as anyone who had to come face-to-face with their biggest phobia twice in one day.”

“And you did great,” Mark clapped her on the shoulder and took a seat beside her. “I’m proud of you.”

Susan gave him a half-smile.

“Thanks,” she said, shaking her head. “It felt like a brush with death. Twice.”

“Oh come on,” Mark chuckled. “You rode in a helicopter twice in one day. Around here, that’s nowhere  _ close _ to a brush with death. Getting chopped up by a helicopter? Maybe. But just riding one? That’s nothing.”

Susan let out a deep breath and put her hand on his shoulder. 

“Promise me that you will never, ever, ever, ever… ever, ever, EVER… ever…  _ ever _ make me do that again,” Susan said seriously. “I did what I had to for my residency. But never again. Okay?”

Mark chuckled again and she squeezed his shoulder until he winced.

“I’m  _ serious _ , Mark,” she hissed. “Never. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay,” he said, pushing her hand away. “Never again.”

But she still wasn’t convinced, as as soon as he looked at her face, he chuckled again.

“Oh, _ ha ha ha _ ,” Susan jeered. “Susan’s afraid of flying. Very funny. Well, Mark’s afraid of…” 

She paused, her expression immediately changing from a sneer into one of confusion.

“Actually… I don’t know what you’re afraid of,” she said slowly. Then, she smiled. “Wait. Yes, I do. My roommate.”

Mark rolled his eyes. 

“I am not.”

“You are too.”

“Eh… I think I could take her,” Mark said, glancing at Susan out of the side of his eye.

“Mmm… I don’t think so,” Susan said, shaking her head. 

“Weaver? Sure, I could. For one, I’m about a foot taller than her and two, I’ll have you know that I took taekwondo when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, so did she,” Susan said with a casual shrug. 

Mark’s playful demeanor dropped immediately as he stared at Susan.

“Really?”

“No,” Susan said, breaking out in laughter. “Well, I dunno.  _ Maybe _ . But I certainly saw the fear in your eyes when I said she did.”

Mark rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. 

“Where is your roomie today?” Mark asked, his voice curiously innocent.

“It’s her day off,” Susan answered. “She’s at home with Suzie,  _ who _ learned not one, but two new words this week. I don’t think  _ she  _ knows it’s two words and not one, but I’m still very proud of her.”

“Hmmmm…. Let me guess,” Mark said. After a moment’s pause, he said, “screw you.”

Susan shook her head.

“Chart review?”

It was Susan’s turn to roll her eyes.

“No… Shut up.”

Mark’s eyebrows rose. 

“That’s it? ‘Shut up’?”

“No. It’s ‘don’t want’. Which she says  _ constantly,  _ regardless of whether she wants the thing or not.”

Mark and Susan both chuckled for a moment. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Susan let out a deep sigh. 

“I’ve been thinking about her all day,” Susan thought aloud. “I mean… I  _ always _ think about her, but… But seeing that tiny little baby in that car seat… And I know that Suzie is a lot older than the newborn, but all I could think when I was trying to get her out was ‘this could be my daughter, this could be my daughter’. I’d… I’d never thought that before.”

Susan felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling. 

“I mean,  _ every day _ in this damn ER, and not  _ once _ had I had that thought yet.”

There was another moment of silence, save for a few sniffs from Susan.

“I remember the first shift back after Rachel was born,” Mark said quietly, “there was this toddler. Maybe two, two-and-a-half. Gunshot wound to the head because mom and dad couldn’t bother to lock up their gun. 

“We managed to get his heart back, but he was already gone. And I just remember walking out of the trauma room and thinking ‘I need to go home  _ right now _ and lock up all my guns’. And it wasn’t ‘til I was walking out of the doors and into the ambulance bay that I remembered I didn’t own any guns.”

Susan chuckled a bit at the last line and Mark’s delivery of it, but the tears wouldn’t stop.  

“Does it get any easier?”

Mark took a moment to ponder Susan’s spoken and unspoken question.  

“No. It doesn’t,” he said finally. “But that’s a good thing. If it  _ does _ , then it’s time to quit.”

Susan nodded. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. 

“You know,” Mark began, “medicine is a… human profession. We work on humans. We know how humans work. And to do that, most of the time, we have to pretend that we’re _not_ human. To disconnect. To be logical. And, to do that, we have to ignore how we feel. 

“But, try as we might, there's always going to be two kinds of doctors. The kind that gets rid of their feelings. And the kind that keeps them. If you're going to keep your feelings, you're going to get sad from time to time. That's just how it works.”

Susan inhaled deeply and gave him a watery smile. Mark put his arm around her and pulled her into a half-hug.

“Something tells me you’ve given this speech before.”

She could feel him shrug.

“Once or twice. Though usually you have to throw up first.”He squeezed her once more before letting go. “Now, go home and hug Suzie  _ really  _ tight and give her all the love you possibly can,  _ even  _ if she says ‘don’t want’.”

 

“Hello?”

“We’re in here.”

Susan kicked off her shoes and hung her coat up on the hook near the door before following the voice around the corner. 

Suzie and Kerry were both seated at the dining room table. Suzie was in her booster seat in the end chair with a thick red crayon in her hand, scribbling lines across a coloring book. Kerry was seated next to her, a copy of the most recent American Academy of Emergency Medicine newsletter in front of her that she seemed to be highlighting with a pink crayon. 

Suzie looked up as Susan entered the room, she lit up and immediately started grabbing for her. Susan grinned in response. She unclipped the seat and scooped her up, kissing her over and over again.

“What are you guys doin’?” Susan asked Suzie happily. She repeated the question in a slightly higher tone. “What are you guys doin’?”

“Say, ‘we’re coloring because I’ve been grumpy and Kerry couldn’t get me to do anything else’,” Kerry replied. 

“Have you been grumpy, sweetheart?” Susan asked, her tone suddenly concerned. She brushed a hair out of Suzie’s eyes and looked to Kerry. “Did she nap well?”

“I don’t think so,” Kerry replied, shaking her head. “I put her down around… eleven? And she only slept until about twelve thirty. I tried putting her down again a little while ago, but she just cried.”

Susan nodded. She went to put Suzie back down in the seat, but Suzie whined loudly. So, instead, Susan nudged out an empty chair and sat down with Suzie on her lap. Safe with her mom, Suzie immediately brightened. 

“I think she missed you,” Kerry commented, smiling slightly at the pair. 

“And I missed her.”

“Don’t want!” Suzie said, reaching for the crayons.

“No, Suzie, you  _ do  _ want,” Susan said. She pulled the crayon and coloring book in front of them. “You  _ do _ want.”

“I’ve been trying that all day,with no such luck,” Kerry chuckled. “So far today, we don’t want breakfast, we don’t want  _ The Lion King _ , we don’t want a snack… We don’t want, well, we  _ really  _ don’t want to sleep. We don’t want lunch, we don’t want  _ The Lion King  _ again. We don’t want blocks or a book. We haven’t wanted a lot of things.”

“It sounds like you guys had a pretty busy day,” Susan said.

She kissed Suzie on the head. Suzie babbled in reply and scribbled the crayon so hard across the page that she nearly tore the picture of Simba and Nala in half. 

“What about you?” Kerry asked, picking up a paintbrush to resume her work. “How was your day?”

“It was… terrifying,” Susan said. Seeing the look of concern on Kerry’s face, she quickly added, “I did my medevac flight today. On the helicopter.”

“Ah, I see,” Kerry said, nodding. “For your residency requirement.”

“Mmm-hmm. And I have a fear of flying, sooo… it was not very fun at all,” Susan explained. “We responded to an auto versus semi collision in the middle of nowhere. Flew the dad and the son and had to go back and get the mom and the newborn daughter because the ambulance still hadn’t gotten there yet.”

“Sounds like quite a day.”

“I told Mark that all I could think about was Suzie. Seeing the baby in the car seat just... “ Susan exhaled deeply. “It was a lot.”

Susan picked up a red crayon and wrote  _ SUZIE  _ in big, capital letters on the top of the page. Suzie whined and tried to swat her hand away. 

“No, thank you,” Susan said sternly. “We do  _ not  _ hit people.”

Susan paused for a moment to see what Suzie would do next. When no meltdowns occurred, she looked back up at Kerry.

“How was your med flight?” Susan asked. Her brow furrowed. “You haven’t done one with us, have you?”

“No, no.” Kerry shook her head. “I’m not… I’m not too fond of the helicopter either. And field work has never really been my forté. But I, uh… I did one when I was at Mt. Sinai. A couple families had gone up to this cabin,to this-this lake house in Wisconsin-”

“God, it wasn’t like a slasher movie situation, was it?” Susan asked, wide eyed. “Where they lure everyone up to the cabin in the woods and then kill ‘em.”

“No, thank God. That would have been horrifying. No, it was… it was a couple of teenagers who found grandpa’s Dilaudid and decided it would be fun to crush them up and snort them.”

Susan grimaced. It was a story she knew all too well.

“Were you able to get ‘em back?”

“Two of them. But… there were three total.” 

Kerry sighed. The memory was still as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

“One of the kids dropped almost immediately, which is when they called us. And the parents asked the other ones if they’d done it too and they lied and said no. One dropped while we were en route. You know, a Narcan kit has two vials in it, and we were able to revive them both. But we had  _ just _ released the plunger on the second vial of Narcan when the third one dropped. And we’d only brought one kit.”

Kerry closed her eyes. There was a look of utmost disappointment on her face.

“The one time, the _one_ _time_ I _didn’t_ over-prepare for something.” 

Susan nodded.

“I had one almost exactly like that once.”

Kerry opened her eyes. Susan was focused on coloring on the left hand page opposite of Suzie. 

“I did a paramedic ride-along when I was an intern. I was  _ thrilled  _ to finally do something other than scut work. We’d just finished bringing a guy in and were in the process of restocking the rig.”

“With County supplies?”

Susan chuckled, a small smile forming on her lips as she colored Zazu teal.

“With  _ Mercy _ supplies. We’d taken the guy there since because it was closer,” she replied. Her smile faded. “And as I was collecting all the supplies to take them back, I went to pick up a Narcan kit. But the- the paramedic said ‘oh, we’ve got one already. We never have to use ‘em, so they last a while’.”

Susan huffed and picked up a yellow crayon. She channeled her frustration into coloring in the savannah.

“And… and I didn’t question it. I believed him. And, sure enough, the next run we went on was for a guy who’s gotten a stronger batch of heroin then usual. His friend called when he OD’d and we got there, went to give it to him, and then found that the Narcan was  _ six years expired _ .”

“Six years?”

“ _ Six years, _ ” Susan repeated through gritted teeth. “There was nothing we could do. We rushed him back, but he was already dead before we got him in the ambulance. 

“And I remember sitting there _ seething _ . I told myself I was mad at the paramedic, but I wasn’t. I was mad at myself. Because I should I have checked- I should have just done it! I had my hand on it. And I didn’t. And… and there was nothing we could do.”

Susan scribbled the crayon onto the paper so hard that it snapped in half. She stared at it for a moment before tossing it aside and picking up another one. But when it too snapped in half when she put it to paper, she gave up. 

She took a deep breath and looked up at Kerry across the table.

“You know,” Susan began with an exasperated smile, “sometimes I think ‘I have a medical degree. I could be doing whatever I want’. I could be a Primary Care Physician or work in a family practice. Spend my days cuddling babies and managing hypertension and never, ever be in a position to experience that kind of regret.

“But, no. I chose  _ this _ . I chose the specialty where you don’t bring enough Narcan and- and drunk drivers kill entire families, but get to walk away unharmed and… and ten-day-old babies have to be flown to a trauma center to undergo an ex lap.” 

Susan breathed hard, tears pricking in her eyes yet again. 

Silence fell between them. 

Suzie let out a whine and rubber her eyes. Susan wrapped her arms around the toddler and kissed her on the head again. 

“We need to go get you some dinner and then get you off to bed,” Susan muttered. She rolled her head back and forth. “And mommy needs to go to bed too so she can get up and do this again tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that…”

Kerry watched quietly, chin in her hand, as Susan gently negotiated the crayon out of Suzie’s hand. Susan sat Suzie on the table for a second so she could push the chair back. 

“If you could had the choice to do something else… would you?”

Susan paused to consider, and then sighed, chuckling. 

“Nope. I’m too much of a masochist,” she joked. “Besides… I’d get bored. The only thing predictable about the ER is that nothing is predictable.”

“Except the frequent flyers.”

“Yeah,” Susan acknowledged. “And the people. I mean… I know I’d make friends anywhere, but it’s different when the people you work with are, you know,  _ your  _ people. I’m sure even if I were to leave for whatever reason, in the end, I’d still come back. I’d you miss you all too much.”


	13. Chapter 13

Susan thought it was very odd the way that time seemed to pass in two different ways depending on which realm of her life she was in.

With Suzie, months seemed long. Each came with new developments. She learned new words and new skills and changed a little bit every day. But in the ER, though her paperwork was always up-to-date, Susan felt constantly behind. Months seemed to pass by in a blur of patients, charting, and traumas. 

Not to say things in the ER hadn’t been eventful. 

Thanksgiving had brought indigestion, two bar fights, and and a family disagreement that ended in a fork to the thigh along with Lydia’s wedding. She and her police officer fiancé had been married right there in the ER, with everyone not currently treating a patient sitting in chairs to watch. 

Only a few days later, Mark treated Jeanie Boulet’s HIV-positive husband and discovered that Jeanie was positive too. When he relegated her to triage, Kerry took umbrage. Serving as confidant to both parties involved, Susan inadvertently served a much larger role than she cared to. 

“And now Anspaugh wants  _ us _ to write a policy on HIV-positive health care workers for the emergency department. Says legal wants each department to handle it on their own,” Mark explained as he pulled his sandwich from the fridge in the lounge. 

“But that kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?” Susan said from her perch on the counter. “I mean Psych would probably be in less danger of contracting it than the ER or surgery, right?”

“Yeah, it makes sense. I just don’t want to be the one held responsible if someone contracts it and blames the hospital.”

“How likely is that, really?” Susan asked, narrowing her eyes. “We treat HIV-positive patients all the time. Stick our hands in their open wounds and all. But as long as we have gloves on and throw the bloody stuff away at the end, we’re okay, right? And if we  _ do  _ get exposed, we take prophylaxis. Don’t universal precautions work both ways?”

“It’s not about the precautions,” Mark said. He sat down at the table. “It’s about what duty we owe to our  _ patients _ . If they were to get infected from a worker and we didn’t tell them that was a risk…”

Mark buried his face in his hands.

“And I have to do this with Weaver,” he moaned. “And before you say anything, you have to admit that you wouldn’t have fun either.”

“Eh… probably not,” Susan admitted with a shrug. “But if her personality is any indicator, she was probably the kid who did the whole group project on her own, so, you might luck out.”

“Maybe.Still, I can’t help but think if I wanted a job changing laws and policies, I’d go live in DC and be a lobbyist like my cousin Joe.”

Susan cocked her head quizzically.

“You have a cousin who’s a lobbyist?” At Mark’s replying nod, she asked, “what’s he lobby for?” 

“Pharma.”

“Ew.”

“Used to be Big Oil,” Mark added. “I don’t talk to him.”

Susan chuckled and hopped down from the counter. She clapped Mark on the shoulder. 

“It’s important work you’re doing, Mark,” she said encouragingly. “I have faith in you.”

“If you think it’s so important, you want to do it?” Mark asked, looking up at her hopefully.

“Not a chance,” she answered. “Besides, this is up to the attendings.”

“You’re Chief Resident. That’s close enough.”

Susan smiled. She put her hands on her shoulders and leaned down close to his ear.

“Let me put it this way. If you pay me like an attending, I’ll do an attending’s job. Until then, no such luck.”

She straightened up, squeezing his shoulders encouragingly.

It didn’t take long for her to end up in the lounge again, this time with a disgruntled Kerry surrounded by a thick mound of  legal documents.

“Getting anywhere?” Susan asked as she poured a cup of coffee, more out of a need to make conversation than out of genuine interest. 

“Not at all.”

Kerry put her forehead in her hand and sighed deeply.

“Mark said I was biased because of my friendship with Jeanie,” Kerry explained. “And he could be right. But I still think he’s too preoccupied with liability than with the well-being of his staff. I mean, Susan, there has never been an instance of a health care worker infecting a patient. And there are precautions in place and yet…”

“What are other hospitals doing?” Susan asked, peeking at some of the documents over Kerry’s shoulder. 

“Nothing consistent,” Kerry muttered. She shuffled some of the pages. “It’s almost like ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’. There’s still too much stigma around it. People judge, people… make assumptions. And… if we  _ don’t  _ ask, we expose the patient to the risk of contracting it, but if we  _ do  _ ask, then we expose the worker to unnecessary stigma and possible alienation.”

Susan read the titles of some of the documents on the table. 

There was a copy of the Americans with Disabilities Act that Susan was fairly certain lived on Kerry’s mess of a desk at home, a guide for HIV-positive health care workers from the CDC, and a few other civil rights guides from organizations such as Lambda Legal and ACT UP. 

“Looks like you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you,” Susan said, straightening up.

“Any interest in helping us?” Kerry asked. “God knows we could use it.”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Mark - pay me like an attending and I’ll do an attending’s job. Otherwise, no such luck.”

Susan opened the fridge and reached for the open carton of milk. She had almost tipped it into mug when she smelled the fetid odor emanating from it. She jerked it back and tossed it into the sink not a moment too soon.

Muttering under her breath about emergency health care personnel knowing better than to leave rotten milk in the fridge, Susan made her way back to admit. But before she could pick up her next chart, Mark cornered her.

“Were you talking to Weaver?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“I was getting coffee,” Susan replied. She pushed past him through the doorway, but he followed her.

“Look, I can’t get through to her,” Mark said, dropping his voice as soon as he was in earshot of the other staff. “She’s too loyal to… to employee ‘x’ to think about this logically.”

“Are you sure it’s illogical?” Susan raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s not a word one usually uses when referring to Kerry Weaver.”

“She’s too concerned with the staff being, I don’t know, isolated? Or exposed? She’s not willing to compromise on that, even in the face of possibly getting sued by patients treated by that particular provider.”

Susan took a sip of her coffee and read over a chart in her hand. When she didn’t respond to him, Mark leaned on the counter until he was within her line of sight.

“What?”

“Can you talk to her?” Mark asked. 

Susan had the distinct feeling that he was on the verge of begging. And yet, she remained unmoved.

“I’m not part of this, Mark,” Susan said. She shook her head. “You need to work this out with her.”

“Susan, she’ll listen to you.”

Though she knew Mark was right, and she was a little bit proud that she was one of the few people Kerry would indeed listen to, it didn’t change anything.

“Not my job, Mark.”

“Susan-”

“ _ Not my job, Mark. _ ”

When Mark opened his mouth again, Susan gave him the same look she gave Suzie when the toddler was about to throw something. They stood for a moment, neither breaking eye contact, before Susan took a sip of her coffee and turned on her heel.

She picked up a chart for a patient that an intern had worked up on her way down the hall. She studied it for a moment, sipping her coffee. In her head, she reviewed the vital signs and notes on the history and physical to see if they matched the suspected diagnosis and lab/ diagnostic orders requested. 

_ Mr. Jeffrey Kirkwilder, 57-year-old white male, presenting with intermittent chest pain. Patient was instructed to dissolve one nitro tab under his tongue every 5 minutes and call 9-1-1 if his symptoms did not resolve after three tabs. They resolved with two, but returned four hours later. Patient drove himself to the ER.  _

That was where it ended. 

Shaking her head, Susan stowed her coffee away in a corner of the admit desk. She looked around and spotted Stewart “Stew” Wilson, an intern formerly of Southside that Susan did her best to avoid as much as she could while still performing her Chief Resident responsibilities. 

“Wilson,” she called out across the desk when her wide eyes and head jerking didn’t get his attention. “Come here and present your patient.”

Wilson made his way over to her. Together they started towards Mr. Kirkwilder’s bed in Exam Three. Susan couldn’t help but think he didn’t seem nearly as scared of her as she had hoped for when she had shouted. Little did she know that the other ER staff within earshot had heard the unmistakable “Chief Resident bark” in Susan’s voice they had previously referred to only as “Weaver-ness”.

Susan and Wilson made their way into the room and to the foot of Mr. Kirkwilder’s bed. 

“Hello Mr. Kirkwilder. I’m Dr. Lewis.”

“You’re a doctor too?” Mr. Kirkwilder asked. “I thought he was my doctor.”

“Well, Dr. Wilson here is what we call an intern. He’s a doctor and he presents his patients to residents like myself who oversee him.”

“Uh-huh,” Mr. Kirkwilder said slowly, still not convinced. “And who is she?”

He nodded past both of them. They turned to see Kerry standing a few feet away, quietly listening to the conversation. 

Susan stopped herself from rolling her eyes as she turned back to the man in the bed. 

“She’s one of our senior doctors.”

“She in charge?”

_ She likes to think she is _ , Susan thought. 

“I’m just going to see what she wants. Give me one sec.”

Susan gave Mr. Kirkwilder an apologetic look and walked over to Kerry.

“What’s up?” she asked in a low voice.

“Nothing,” Kerry said with a shrug. “I’m just observing.”

“It feels like you’re hovering,” Susan replied. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m just watching you interact with your intern.”

Susan paused for a moment and then narrowed her eyes. 

“I’ve already had my mid-year evaluation.”

“I know,” Kerry acknowledged. “I’m just observing. Now go on.”

Susan shot her one more suspicious glance before returning to Mr. Kirkwilder and Wilson the intern.

“Alright, Dr. Wilson. Present your patient.”

“This is Mr. Jeffrey Kirkwilder. He’s a 57-year-old white male and presents with intermittent chest pain. He was instructed to dissolve one tab of nitro under his tongue every 5 minutes and call 9-1-1 if his symptoms did not resolve after three tabs. They went away with two tabs, but the pain returned four hours later, so he came in.”

“Yes, Dr. Wilson. That was written in the chart. Almost word-for-word it looks like,” Susan said, reading the chart. “What was the patient doing when the chest pain began, Dr. Wilson?”

“He said he was mowing the lawn when the chest pain .”

Susan looked at Wilson over the top of the chart.

“He was mowing the lawn,” Susan repeated slowly.

“That’s what he said,” Wilson said, nodding. 

Susan glanced at Kerry out of the side of her eye. Her brow had risen so high it threatened to disappear into her hair.

“I don’t believe that’s possible, considering it’s December in Chicago.” Susan sighed and looked down at the patient. “Mr. Kirkwilder, can you tell us what you were  _ actually  _ doing?”

Mr. Kirkwilder shifted uncomfortably in the hospital bed. He gave them a sheepish grin.

“I was… uh…  _ smoking _ .”

Susan nodded and took note of the comment in the chart. 

“You’re not gonna turn me in, are you?” the man asked quickly, “though it was only tobacco, I promise.”

“We’re not the police, Mr. Kirkwilder,” Susan replied calmly. “We just need to know what happened so that we can best take care of you. Dr. Wilson, get a 12-Lead and cardiac enzymes. And get him to a monitored bed.”

Wilson nodded and Susan went to hand him the chart. But as she did so, she paused for a moment and then leaned close so only Wilson could hear him.

“And next time a patient tells you they were mowing their lawn, make sure there isn’t three inches of snow on the ground outside, okay?”

Susan straightened up and smiled, which she was pleased to see he returned with a hint of fear in his eyes.

As she made her way out into the hall, she could feel Kerry close at her heels. Not wanting to stop suddenly and accidentally cause the petite woman to run into her, she led them both to the secluded corner outside the suture room.

“What do you want?” Susan asked, crossing her arms tight against her. “And I swear if it’s about it’s about this whole policy thing-”

“I know it’s not your job and everything, but  _ please _ , Susan,” Kerry begged in hushed tones. “I can’t get through to him, but you could. Susan, he’ll listen to you-”

_ “Oh my GOD.”  _ Susan threw her hands up exasperated. Before Kerry could say anything else, Susan checked that the suture room was empty and pushed the door open. She pointed Kerry inside. “Get in there.”

“Susan-”

“I said  _ now _ ,” Susan hissed.

Kerry stood, mouth working wordlessly for a moment, before she did as instructed. 

Susan was ready to march back to admit to hunt down Mark Greene when she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye. She turned her head and saw him looking at an x-ray on a light box about twenty feet away. 

“ _ Mark _ .”

He looked around before his eyes landed on Susan. She crooked a finger. He had the gall to look around for a moment and then point to himself as if to ask “ _ me?” _ . She crooked a finger again. When he pointed to the x-ray, she pointed to the ground. 

“Come here.  _ Now. _ ”

Like Kerry, he stood for a moment, visibly taken aback, before heading into the suture room.

Mark and Kerry exchanged equally confused glances before looking to Susan, who had closed the door and paused with her back turned to them for a moment as she steeled herself.

Drawing in a deep breath, she turned to face the attendings, who took this as their cue to start talking.

“What is this-”

“ _ Cht cht _ .” Susan held up a silencing finger. 

“Susan, I really-”

“ _ Cht cht _ ,” Susan repeated, holding up a second silencing finger.

Both stared at her, clearly confused by the sound both had only ever heard used to correct dogs or children.

“You two.  _ Enough _ ,” Susan said firmly. “If you’re going to act like children, I’m going to treat you like children. You both are on time out.”

“Susan-”

“ _ You are on time out from Susan!” _ Susan hissed. “ _ God.  _ ‘He’ll listen to you’, ‘she’ll listen to you’. Well, neither of you are listening to  _ me _ . 

“I have told you both several times that I am not interested nor should I take part in this whole thing. And yet, both of you insist on putting me in the middle of it. Well, you know what? I’m done.”  Kerry and Mark were both ready to blame the other, but neither dared cross Susan. Especially not when she had her arms crossed and her nostrils flared. “ And if you want my input so bad, here you go.”

Susan turned to Mark first. 

“Mark, it sounds like  _ from what I’ve heard _ ,” Susan said quickly before he could cut her off, “it sounds like you are letting fear stop you from taking care of the emotional well-being of your staff. There’s going to be liability involved no matter what, but that shouldn’t stop you from taking care of those who look to you. You set the tone and all that, remember? You’re a caring guy. This doesn’t seem like you and honestly, I expect more from you.

“And Kerry, I thought you would eat this ‘writing policy’ shit right up! Even if Mark doesn’t work with you, I’d think you’d still sit down and write a draft yourself. And, yeah, I know that’s not how it’s supposed to work, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that sometimes it’s nice when you take the initiative on things because you give us a good starting point to jump off of.”

Susan breathed hard. Neither one of the attendings in front of her dared move a muscle, let alone respond.

“Now…” she said slowly, “you’ve got my opinion, so I am stepping out of this completely. 

“Neither one of you are allowed to speak to me again until this is done, unless it is about-” Susan counted the reasons off on her fingers “- in a trauma, or when you’re handing me a document and saying ‘here’s the first draft, Susan, we’d appreciate your feedback’. Other than that… nothing.”

Kerry opened her mouth to speak, but Susan silenced her with a look.

_ “Nothing.” _

Susan cast them both a warning look before spinning on her heel and storming out the suture room. There was a brief moment where she could have sworn that the pair had started bickering in her absence, but she paid it no mind. 

She had patients to see.

 

Kerry set her crutch and bag against the inside of the door and shrugged off her coat. Snow cascaded off of it and her hat both as she hung them on the nearby rack. 

She figured she should grateful she’d found a spot on the street at all. The snow was piling up fast and if she hadn’t managed to get it then, it might have been too late.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, threaded her arm back through the cuff of the crutch and made her way into the living room.

Susan was seated on the floor next to the couch, surrounded by piles of laundry. There was a fire lit in the gas fireplace across from her. It and the TV next to it, angled in towards the sofa and plush chairs, cast dancing shadows across the wall as it told the story of George Bailey in  _ It’s A Wonderful Life _ .

The moment Susan heard her step into the room, she turned, her brow raised.

“The rule still applies at home,” she cautioned. 

Kerry smiled and acknowledged the warning by inclining her head and raising her hand in defense. 

Then, she raised her left hand, pointing four fingers held together in towards her shoulder, before pointing to the bag, and then to Susan. When Susan frowned in confusion, Kerry chuckled, and repeated the motions. 

It took her a second but once Susan figured out what she was doing, she rolled her eyes and sighed. 

“Okay, you can talk because I don’t know sign language.”

Kerry smiled and slid the bag off her arm and onto the couch before sitting down herself. 

“I said ‘I have this’,” she pulled a thick printed document out of her bag, “‘for you’. To peruse at your convenience as we would appreciate your feedback.”

“Okay,” Susan said appreciatively. She took the offered document and skimmed through it briefly before handing it back. “Alright. The rule is lifted.”

“Wonderful,” Kerry replied with only a  _ hint _ of sarcasm. “We were so eager for you input, but really all we needed was Jeanie’s.”

Susan, who had been in with a patient when Jeanie had announced her HIV status to the staff and whose shift ended soon after, grimaced.

“It’s Jeanie?”

Kerry nodded. She pulled her feet up onto the couch and tugged a blanket off the back of the couch. 

“How long have you known?”

“A few months.”

“And you kept her secret?”

“I didn’t see any reason not to,” Kerry said simply. She adjusted the blanket over her legs. “It’s a shitty hand to be dealt, regardless of your profession, and she’s too valuable to the patients and to our team to have to go through… this. On top of being sick.”

“Is she sick?” Susan asked. “I mean… is she on the cocktail?”

Kerry hesitated in answering, most likely due to a concern for Jeanie’s privacy, Susan was sure.

“She’s great,” she said quietly, a small smile creeping over her face. “She told me this morning her viral load is undetectable.”

“That’s good. That’s  _ really  _ good.”

Kerry leaned back against the arm of the couch and nodded. 

She was so mentally and physically exhausted she felt like it might be worth it just to sleep here tonight. But she knew her hips and her back would not thank her for that tomorrow.

She sat up. 

“Oh, by the way,” Kerry started, stifling a yawn. She pointed towards Christmas tree, which Susan and Suzie had set up a few days prior over behind the other couch. “I’ll probably be up and gone by the time you get up tomorrow so I want you to know that green bag is for Suzie and the red wrapped gift next to it is for you.”

Susan glanced only briefly at the tree before looking up at Kerry.

“You’re not going to be here?”

“No,” Kerry replied, leaning her head back and closing her eyes once more. “I’m pulling a double tomorrow. Mark’s going up to see Rachel and I want the other doctors with fam- with kids to be able to be home on Christmas morning.”

With her eyes closed, Kerry didn’t see the look of disappointment on Susan’s face. Nor did she see that disappointment fade to be replaced with a soft smile. 

“You know,” Susan began, resting her arm on the couch, “you’re really something.”

Kerry did not sit up, but did raise her head slightly. Enough that Susan could see her raise a tired eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… You do a really good job of convincing everyone that you don’t care about anything except your patients and yourself,” Susan said, thinking out loud, “but then you think to do stuff like that. Or keep Jeanie’s secret, even though you could get in trouble for it. Or, hell, any of the stuff you’ve done for me.”

“And?”

“And…” Susan shook her head, chuckling softly. She looked back up at Kerry. “I guess those of us lucky enough to get on your good side know that you’ll take just as good care of us as you would any of your patients.” 

Kerry considered the statement for a moment and smiled.

“You can’t let anyone know I’ve got a good side. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Of course,” Susan reassured. She paused. “Though, it’s not that much of a secret if they know how to look.”

Kerry chuckled, warmed by both the comment and the blanket.

Susan stared at the television for a moment before hopping to her feet and making for the Christmas tree.

“Okay,” she said, digging through the gifts “Santa” had placed under the tree after Suzie had gone to bed. “If you’re not going to be here tomorrow, I want to give this to you now.”

Kerry sat up and pulled her legs down over the side of the couch so Susan could sit down opposite her. Susan did so, choosing to sit criss-cross. She put the red gift Kerry had pointed in her lap and held something smaller behind her back.

“You go ahead,” Kerry offered, nodding towards the gift. 

“No. I want you to go first. But I want to say something to preface it first,” Susan said. She took a deep breath. “I am so incredibly grateful for everything that you have done for me and for Suzie. I got thrown into these circumstances by chance and the way stuff has worked out has been… a bit unexpected to say the least. But good. Very good. 

“And I wanted to find something that would convey my gratitude to you. It was very hard, but I think I found exactly the right thing.”

Susan held out the gift she had been holding behind her back. It was an ordinary white envelope. Kerry took it from her slowly, as if suspicious that it wasn’t what it seemed.

Carefully, she tore the seal of the envelope and opened the flap. Inside was a folded piece of paper, but it didn’t feel like printer paper. It was thinner and as Kerry took it out, she could see the familiar thick black lines and colorful streaks across it.

“One of Suzie’s coloring book pages?”

Kerry looked at the picture for a moment, very confused, before glancing up at Susan. She found the other woman watching her closely, wearing an expression that was a mix of a shit-eating grin and immense pride in herself.

“No, not the coloring book page, though that is yours to keep. The gift is  _ The Lion King _ .”

“I… I don’t understand.”

Susan grinned broadly.

“I went back and forth  _ so  _ many times trying to figure out what to get you. And then, I learned that Disney is making a  _ Lion King _ musical. And I love musicals and I know  _ you _ love musicals and I know that we both have the seen more the movie more times times than any person should,” Susan explained, “so… the gift is tickets to go see the musical. The tickets aren’t on sale yet, which is why they’re not in there, but the moment they go on sale, I’m getting us some.”

“It’s going to be here?” Kerry asked, tucking the coloring page safely back within the envelope. “Or… in New York?”

“Well, it won’t be on Broadway until later next year,” Susan replied, “ _ but _ , they are doing their out-of-town, pre-Broadway tryout in July in Minneapolis. That’s where you’re from, right?”

“Yeah… it is. I’m- I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“Of course I did,” Susan said with a shrug. “That was part of the draw of the tickets. I figured that you, me, and Suzie could go up there for a weekend. You and I can see the show and you can… I don’t know, visit friends? Or family? Or… whatever you want.”

“That would… that would actually be really nice,” Kerry said in a softer tone. “I don’t even remember the last time I went home. Thank you. This is… wonderful.”

Susan straightened up proudly. 

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do,” she said, still grinning. “Now… my turn?”

“Please.”

Susan began tearing the wrapping paper off the flat, rectangular gift in her lap. It amused Kerry the way Susan took a second to find the seam before just randomly ripping. As Susan pulled the paper off, Kerry spoke up.

“I saw it in the store and thought it… you needed it.”

Susan ran her fingers over the glossy cover of a picture book. The image on the front was a beautiful watercolor image of large bird flying over a meadow. She opened it slowly and took in the pictures for a moment before reading the words on the page. When she did, she looked up.

“It’s ‘Blackbird’,” she said simply. “By-by the Beatles.”

“I know. That’s why I bought it,” Kerry said, her own grin rivaling Susan’s previous one. “ I… I can hear you sing it to Suzie if I’m home when you put her down. And I remember that story you told me about Chloe and the  _ White Album _ . When -when Suzie was born?”

“Yeah,” Susan breathed. 

Susan ran her fingers over the illustrations for a moment before snapping the book shut and springing forward to pull Kerry into a hug. 

For a moment, the redhead was taken aback, but the surprise didn’t last long. Susan squeezed her tight and for a moment, Kerry was transported back to the night of Halloween when they danced together.

“I’m glad you like it,” she chuckled quietly into Susan’s hair.

Susan said nothing in reply, but nodded into Kerry’s shoulder. 

They hugged for a long while, and would’ve continued, if Kerry hadn’t eventually gotten uncomfortable from being turned sideways for so long. When they broke apart, Susan sighed deeply.

She ran her fingers over the cover again, overwhelmed by how perfect this book was. Had she not believed so strongly in the ‘never wake a sleeping baby’ rule, she would have woken Suzie up just to read her back to sleep.

“I… I can’t begin to…”

Words failed her. There were no words that could express her gratitude for yet another wonderful thing Kerry had done for her. 

When she finally looked up, Susan was overcome with the urge to kiss her. Right then and there. On that couch.

But the sheer surprise of the thought floored her. Unable to think any more than to process the new, surprising development, she just muttered another “thank you” and bade Kerry goodnight. 

As she resumed folding her laundry, she watched as George Bailey ran down to the bridge to beg his guardian angel for his life back, having seen the dark alternate universe where he didn’t exist. 

Susan considered the alternate universes that could have led to other things than this. What would her life be like if Chloe hadn’t run away? What would her life be like if Chloe had, but had come back sooner? 

Certainly not  _ this _ , she thought. These were unexpected circumstances indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the  _It's a Wonderful Life_ reference just because it was Christmas. I didn't mean to get all AU-meta on ya there. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter took a little longer! For one, it is  _very_ long and for two, I posted a bunch last week while on my "jobcation" (aka a week off in between jobs). I have since started the new job (and also grad school) and while it is very exciting, it is also very exhausting. However, writing is my #1 self-care activity, so it will keep happening, I promise. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

Susan awoke suddenly to the weight of a well-rested toddler collapsing onto her chest. 

She opened her eyes to find Suzie giggling in her face, proud of herself for surprising her mommy after their nap together. 

“Well, hello to you too,” Susan said, wrapping her arms around Suzie. She winced slightly, adjusting herself so she could breathe better. “You are getting so big.”

“Mama!”

“Yes, my love?”

“Mama go!” 

“Mama go where?” Susan asked.

Suzie rolled over and pointed towards the ceiling.

“You want mama to go up there?”

“Yeah!”

Suzie never said “yes”, always “yeah”. Susan chuckled and squeezed Suzie tighter to her. 

For a second, she just laid there, her arms wrapped around the little girl who got bigger and bigger every day. She could just barely see overcast sky through the basement window above her bed thanks to the great deal of snow that sat in the window well. 

Though not one to normally do so, she made a silent prayer thanking God or the Universe or whoever was out there for moments like these. Moments where she didn’t have anywhere to go or anything to do and could just  _ be _ . Her and Suzie. Together forever. 

“Mama go!” Suzie repeated before she began trying to wriggle her way out of Susan’s arms. 

Okay, maybe there was  _ one _ place she had to go.

Gently, she rolled Suzie down onto the bed next to her and stood up. Suzie climbed over the blankets and off the bed. But right as Susan turned for the stairs, Suzie raised her arms up over her head. 

“Mama up!”

“You were the one who wanted to go upstairs,” Susan said, her hands on her hips.

“Mama  _ uuuuppp! _ ” Suzie whined. 

Susan tried to hold firm, but she was powerless. Rolling her eyes, she picked Suzie up and heaved her up onto her hip. 

She was always impressed with herself when she managed to carry Suzie all the way up the stairs without getting tired. Mom muscles were definitely a thing and they felt  _ good _ .

“Alright, my love. What do you want for lunch?” Susan asked, sitting Suzie in the high chair. “Do you want pizza?”

“Noooo,” Suzie said, shaking her head. 

“No, we don’t want pizza. Okay, do you want macaroni and cheese?”

“Noooo.”

“Hmmm…” Susan pulled open the fridge and observed the contents. “Oooh… let’s make French toast.”

“Noooo,” Suzie repeated. “Don’t want!”

“It’s really good,” Susan reassured, pulling the eggs from the fridge. “I promise. It is basically dessert though, so you need to eat some real food first.”

“Don’t want!” 

“It’s really good, I  _ promise _ ,” Susan repeated, momentarily forgetting that she was talking to a nineteen-month-old. “I wonder if Kerry would mind if I used the last three eggs.”

Susan blinked and then looked up at the clock. 12:02 pm. 

Huh, she thought. That was weird. Usually Kerry would be up by now, even if she had done an overnight shift in the ER.

“You know what, Suzie? You should go see if Kerry wants to have lunch with us.”

Though Suzie didn’t exactly understand the question, she  _ did _ like that Susan picked her back up. The pair made their way towards the bedroom door off the living room. 

“Can you knock, Suzie?” Susan asked, leaning the toddler closer to the door.

Happy to oblige, Suzie banged her hands (flat) against the door several times before turning to look at Susan, grinning broadly and hoping for her mother’s approval. She received it in an amused chuckle.

Susan listened for movement or a voice behind the door for a moment, but none came. 

Frowning, she knocked lightly a few times. 

Still nothing.

Susan considered opening the door and peeking inside, but thought better of it. Even if Kerry didn’t like sleeping in too late, Susan knew better than to intrude on Kerry’s bedroom. It was the only part of the house that was unofficially off-limits. The only time Susan went in on her own was to give Suzie a bath and every time, she fought off her immense curiosity and avoided looking at any of Kerry’s personal belongings.

Concerned, she gently knocked once more before shrugging and turning back towards the kitchen. 

It was then that she heard the creak of bedsprings and the sounds of slow, uneven footsteps approaching.

Susan stopped and turned back as Kerry opened the door a little bit.

Even from just what Susan could see, Kerry looked, in a word, awful. 

There were dark circles under her eyes and several strands of hair had fallen out of her braid and into her face. Some of her bangs appeared slicked to her forehead with sweat. And all this wasn’t even including the baggy t-shirt, flannel pajama pants, and green and blue plaid robe that looked like it had once been belonged to a man.

“What do you want?” Kerry said in a low voice, blinking hard at the light emanating from the living room.

“Well, little Suzie wanted to know if you wanted to join us for lunch, but now big Suzie thinks you need to come out here so she can examine you.”

“I’m fine,” Kerry replied quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”

She started to close the door, but Susan stopped the door with her foot. 

“Susan, please-”

“Let me take a look at you. You really look bad.”

“Thank you for your input,” Kerry said in the best sneer she could manage under the circumstances. “But that’s not necessary.”

Kerry tried to close the door again, but Susan stepped farther in, essentially blocking the door with her body. She raised a hand to Kerry’s forehead and managed to hold it there for a few seconds before it was swatted away.

“Kerry, you are burning up,” Susan said. “Please let me take a look at you. I can go in there if you don’t feel well enough to come out here.”

“I told you that I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

She tried to pull the door closed a third time. When the door was at Susan’s back, Susan sighed and stepped out of the way to let her proceed. 

“Wait. Hold on,” Susan said, throwing out a hand to stop the door after all. “At least take this.”

Susan turned and grabbed a spare baby monitor out of a side table drawer. She flipped the switch, relieved that the batteries were still good, and held it out to Kerry, who took it, her brow furrowing. 

“Susan,” she said after a moment, “I don’t need monitored. I told you I’m  _ fine _ .”

“I just want to know if your…  if your status changes is all,” Susan said, raising a hand defensively as she stepped back.  When Kerry rolled her eyes and closed the door, Susan had an additional thought. “Oh! And I’ll know if you turn it off.”

There was silence for a moment before a voice replied, “how?”

“Well, actually, I don’t. But you just told me you would, so don’t do it.”

There was no further reply, only the sound of Kerry’s footsteps. Only when Susan heard the faint sound of the bed creaking did she finally sigh and turn towards the kitchen once again. 

Susan put Suzie back in the high chair, much to Suzie’s chagrin, and opened the fridge once more. 

“Suzie, French toast is a game changer.  _ But,  _ if you want to do it right, it’s basically a dessert. So, I’m going to make it, but we’ll need to eat some real food first.”

She scanned the contents of the fridge, occasionally peeking behind things or checking the contents of various Tupperware. Finally, she pulled leftover ham and cheese potatoes out and set them on the counter. 

She then pulled two plastic plates out of the cupboard and began the process of heating up the food; first, the leftovers and then some canned green beans. 

“Do you want to watch  _ The Little Mermaid _ while we eat lunch, Suzie?” Susan asked, hopefully. “Or maybe  _ Beauty and the Beast _ ?”

Suzie shook her head. 

“Want king! Want king!”

Knowing better than to believe that her daughter was in search of a new crowned leader, Susan sighed and crossed to the living room to rewind  _ The Lion King  _ for the fourth time in twenty-four hours.

She had just put the VHS in and pushed “play” on the VCR when she heard a loud thumping crash from somewhere behind Kerry’s bedroom door. 

Immediately, Susan sprang forward, tossing the remote aside. 

Her hand was on the knob and had nearly turned it when she stopped. She had had the sudden thought of Kerry just beyond the door, having only knocked over a laundry hamper or something, completely irate for the intrusion and for Susan’s jumping to conclusions.

Susan took a deep breath and released her grip on the doorknob. 

“She’s fine,” she said aloud, more to reassure herself than anything else. 

She turned back to the kitchen. The microwave had dinged, so she resumed her preparation of lunch, too focused on the leftovers and the crash to consider starting the French toast.

“She’s an adult. If she needs help, she’ll yell for it. I’ve heard her do it a hundred times before,” Susan continued out loud. 

She started dicing the slice of ham into small Suzie-sized pieces. 

“She’s a doctor. She knows her body’s limits. Besides, she’s smart. She knows better than to avoid asking for help when she needs it...”

Susan’s knife slowed. She looked up at the door, her eyes narrowing.

“Unless she’d consider asking for help to be a sign of weakness,” Susan thought aloud, “in which case, she would probably do anything to avoid showing weakness to anyone, even if it meant putting herself in a bad position.”

Susan dropped the knife on the plate. She shook her head and put her hand on her hip.

“I have to go in there, don’t I?”

Still shaking her head, Susan put the food on the tray of the high chair before making her way for the bedroom door. She straightened herself up. 

“Okay,” she said in a serious tone. She looked at Suzie. “If I don’t come back, I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. And, also, you are not allowed down until you’ve eaten all of your green beans.”

She put her hand on the doorknob and turned, bracing herself.

_ If she’s in bed, I leave. If she’s not, I go in. If she’s in bed, I leave. If she’s not, I go in _ .

The thought repeated over and over in Susan’s head like a mantra as she slowly opened the door.

With the curtains drawn and the mid-winter gloom beyond the window, the room was almost as dark as night. Susan peered into the queen-sized bed, it’s headboard against the wall to Susan’s left. 

“Kerry?” she whispered, taking a quiet step forward. 

Even by the little bit of light in the room, Susan could tell the bed was empty. Groaning internally, Susan stepped further into the room.

As she did so, she glanced around, praying to that same God/Universe she had thanked earlier not to see Kerry passed out on the floor on the other side of the bed. 

She didn’t, thank God, but she did see Kerry’s crutch still set against the wall next to her nightstand, meaning she couldn’t be very far. It was illuminated by a small ray of light emanating from the bathroom behind her.

Susan turned to see the door slightly ajar. 

“Kerry?” she asked again. “Are you in there?”

“Go away.”

Well, that was at least a  _ little _ reassuring. If Kerry could tell her off, that meant she was okay, right?

Ignoring the instruction, Susan opened the door. Blinking at the bright light, she looked around and felt her heart drop.

Kerry was sitting on the floor against the wall between the toilet and the counter. The dark circles under her eyes looked even worse in the light, and it was clear that, no matter what she might say to the contrary, she felt absolutely miserable.

Susan knelt down in front of her. 

“I told you to go away.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t listen,” Susan replied automatically as she began her visual assessment. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. Now, leave me alone.”

“Did you fall?”

“No. I didn’t fall. Now leave.”

“I heard a crash,” Susan continued, wishing she had the foresight to keep a med kit in the house. “And then nothing.”

It was clear to Kerry that nothing she could say (that wouldn’t ruin her friendship with Susan) was going to get Susan to stop. Too tired to fight, she gave in.

“I had knelt down in front of the toilet to… to throw up. When I went to get up, my leg buckled underneath me. So, I sat down.”

Susan raised a hand to Kerry’s forehead again and, this time, it was not swatted away. Shaking her head, Susan stood up.

“Where do you keep your thermometer?” At the look on Kerry’s face, Susan rolled her eyes. “Just tell me. Unless you want me to start rifling through drawers.”

“Third drawer down on the right.”

Susan found the thermometer. Pulling off the plastic cover, she sat down in front on Kerry on the floor and offered it to her. Kerry rolled her eyes.

“Put this in your mouth or I’m sticking it up your ass. And, I assure you, that won’t be fun for either of us.”

Not wanting to bet on Susan’s bluff and come up wrong, Kerry took the thermometer and stuck it under her tongue. At the same time, Susan took one of her wrists and began taking her pulse.

“How long have you felt like this?” she asked, focusing intently on the second-hand of her watch.

“Since about 4:30 this morning,” Kerry responded out of the corner of her mouth.

“So, not at work last night?”

Kerry shook her head. 

“I felt a little nauseous at about eleven last night, but I thought it was just the trauma. Multiple MVA. Looked like they’d been fed through a sausage grinder.”

Susan looked up at Kerry and raised an eyebrow.

“You get nauseous in traumas?”

“Not very often. But every once in a while.”

The thermometer beeped. Susan snatched it before Kerry could even lift her hand to take it out.

“102.3° F. Good Lord, woman,” Susan said with a little scoff. “You need to go the hospital.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’ve got some kind of gastroenteritis. Given the fever, the season, and how generally terrible you feel, it’s probably a norovirus.”

“That’s… that’s passed by…” Kerry looked for a second like she might vomit again. “It’s passed from… fecal matter. And I wash my hands.”

“You also live with a toddler and work in an emergency department, so chances are, it’s not your fault.”

The slightly sarcastic tone in Susan’s voice came naturally when disagreeing with Kerry, but this time, it seemed to be more of a cover for how worried Susan felt. 

“Well, it’s… if it’s norovirus, then it’s a virus and there’s nothing to do but wait it out.”

“And rehydrate you. If you’ve been puking for six hours, you’re going to be dehydrated. Your options are Pedia-lyte or an IV.”

“I’m fine with Pedia-lyte.”

“Except we don’t have any,” Susan finished. “And by the time I got Suzie all packed up to go get some, I could have already gotten you to the ER. Besides, I really don’t want to leave you alone when you’re feeling like this.”

Kerry leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. 

“Come on,” Susan said in a softer voice, “you know that if a patient came in feeling as bad as you do right now, you wouldn’t hesitate. So, why not do it for yourself, huh?”

Susan considered taking Kerry’s hand, but given the circumstances, thought better of it. Instead, she rubbed the other woman’s arm encouragingly.

“I don’t want to go the hospital.”

“Why not? And if you say it’s because you think the doctors are incompetent, we’ve got a pretty big problem on our hands,” Susan said, hoping the joke would ease the situation a bit.

But, when Kerry opened her eyes, Susan could see in them a fear she’d only ever seen once or twice. 

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” she repeated, her voice so low that Susan had to strain to hear it. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

“What? You mean human?”

Susan smiled slightly, but the look in Kerry’s eyes didn’t change. Gently, Susan brushed a few strands of hair out of Kerry’s face and tucked them behind her ear in what she hoped was comforting.

“Okay,” she said quietly, matching Kerry’s volume, “you have a choice. I can take you to Mercy or to Lakeside or even up to Northwestern, but you’ll have to sit there and wait in chairs and I won’t be able to go back with you. Or, I can take you to County, get you a room alone - even if it’s just the on-call room - and take care of you myself. It’s up to you.”

Kerry considered the offer for a moment.

Even sitting down, she felt very nauseous. Though the ER attending in her knew that no one, not even staff, should get a fast pass in the ER if it wasn’t truly an emergency, the idea of having to wait in chairs somewhere sounded like torture.

“You can take me to County,” she answered finally. 

“Great. I was going to anyway, but it’s better if you’re on board with it.”

Kerry may have felt awful, but that didn’t stop her from shooting Susan a look of disdain. Susan only found it amusing and stood up before offering Kerry a hand.

It took Kerry longer to stand up than it usually would have. When she was finally upright, a wave of dizziness rushed over her. Thankfully, it was not followed by any more nausea. 

Susan waited, her hands holding Kerry’s tightly, ready to catch her if she fell. But she didn’t fall, instead remaining upright with her eyes squeezed shut to stop the room from spinning.

After giving Kerry a moment to catch her breath, Susan raised an eyebrow.

“Ready?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Kerry replied, though she wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth. 

She opened her eyes slowly, testing to see if the dizziness had abated. When it did, she instinctively looked around for her crutch, only to remember she had left it in the other room.

“Can- can I…” Kerry took a deep breath. “Can I… lean on you?”

Given how Susan was already stepping towards her right side, she had her answer before Susan even spoke.

“Of course,” Susan replied sincerely. 

Kerry slipped her arm in Susan’s and held on tight. They started slowly back towards the bedroom, Susan letting Kerry dictate the pace.

“Thank you,” she muttered quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Susan responded, nodding.  “And just so you know, the answer will always be yes. Whenever you need it. You don’t have to ask.”

 

Susan debated for a solid ten minutes whether to park in the garage or to just risk parking in the ambulance bay long enough to get Kerry and Suzie inside. 

Had the former felt any better, even just the  _ thought _ of parking in the ambulance bay would be enough to earn Susan an earful. But the former felt pretty damn terrible at the moment and could honestly care less.

Still, a good deal of snow and security lurking around was enough of a deterrent to send them to the garage. Luckily, Susan had the foresight to take Kerry’s car (mostly because it was easier to dig out than her own) and thus could use the disabled parking placard currently stowed away in the glovebox. Kerry, who only used the placard on her bad days, wondered how Susan even knew it was there.

“Jerry,” Susan called out loudly as they entered the ER. “What’s open?”

“Uh, take your pick. Curtains one through three, exam two, suture room, trauma one, trauma two,” he listed off, leaning back to glance at the board. “Revelers haven’t started drinking yet, so it’s pretty okay right now.”

“Great. We’ll take the suture room,” Susan said as she reached the counter. “Oh, and can you start a chart for me?”

“I didn’t think you were on today.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Susan said, waving him away. “Just start the chart and don’t put anyone else in the suture room.”

“Okay. Who’s the patient?” 

“Don’t worry about that either. I’ll take care of it.”

Jerry rolled his eyes.

“Dr. Lewis, I need to put all the patient names on the board,” he explained. “If I don’t, Dr. Weaver will kill me.”

“Trust me, Jerry,” Susan said, dropping her voice and nodding towards the still-bundled-up figure next to her, “in this case, I think she’d kill you if you  _ do _ .”

Jerry frowned for a moment and then let out a quiet “oh” as it clicked. Then he nodded and handed off the blank chart. 

“Thanks. Oh, and before I forget…”

Susan picked up Suzie and heaved her onto the counter. The toddler, bundled up in her puffy, pink parka, giggled like it was a roller coaster and she had the front seat. 

“Entertain Suzie for me, will you?” 

Jerry’s mouth worked wordlessly for a moment before he shook his head. 

“Dr. Lewis, I’ve got work to do-”

“It’s easy, I promise,” Susan assured him. “She’s already taken her nap and had lunch and she doesn’t bite… Well, she doesn’t bite  _ hard _ . And you’re not going to be putting her to bed, so you’re not in danger of that.”

Susan didn’t wait for Jerry to respond, but just thanked him again and started her and Kerry down the hall towards the suture room.

Once there, Susan quickly shrugged her coat off before helping Kerry out of hers and into the bed. 

“Give me just a second. I’m going to get stuff. I’ll be right back,” Susan said reassuringly. 

Kerry just nodded. 

Susan close the blinds on the suture room door before stepping out into the hall. Pulling the door shut tightly behind her, she spotted Carol down the hall a bit restocking supplies.

“Hey, Carol. Do you have a sec?”

Carol looked around. When she saw the owner of the voice, she looked taken aback and rushed over. 

“I thought you were off today,” Carol said in a low voice. “Is everything okay? Is Suzie okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Susan said, nodding. “Jerry’s looking after her.”

At that moment, there was a shriek of toddler mirth. Both Carol and Susan turned to look back towards the admit desk, just in time to see Suzie run across the hall, giggling madly as she escaped Jerry. When the gentle giant desk clerk knocked over a lone IV pole in his pursuit, Suzie only laughed louder. 

Susan looked back to Carol. 

“Well, that’s not promising.”

“So, if Suzie’s okay and you’re okay, why are you here?”

“Kerry’s really sick. She only agreed to come if I promised to keep things…  _ quiet _ ,” Susan whispered. “Could you get me two bags of normal saline along with five of IV Compazine and two Tylenol 500s?”

“Uh… sure,” Carol said slowly. “Should I just bring them in?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” Susan turned back to the suture room door, but then remembered something else. “Oh, and Carol?”

“Yeah?”

“Couple of emesis basins too.”

Susan smiled apologetically at Carol’s grimace before she ducked back into the room. Carol appeared at the door a few minutes later with the requested medication and supplies, which Susan took with a sincere “thank you”.

“Alright,” Susan said as she hung the bag of saline on the hook above the bed. “I’m going to start a line. Your left hand okay?”

Kerry nodded and held out the requested hand. She turned her head away slightly, closing her eyes tight.

“Feeling nauseous again? Or just don’t like needles?” 

“Both.”

Susan pushed one of the emesis basins onto Kerry’s lap, chuckling slightly, before turning her attention back to the IV. 

“What, you can do it on everyone else, but you can’t take it when it’s you?”

“I’m just not very fond of it is all,” Kerry muttered. “But as long as I’m not looking at it, I’m fine. You can go ahead whenever you’re ready.”

“Oh, it’s already in,” Susan informed her.

Kerry opened her eyes and looked at the back of her hand for confirmation, shocked to see the IV needle already taped down on the back of her hand and Susan now beginning the slow injection of Compazine into the IV port. 

“I… I didn’t even feel it,” Kerry said, still staring. 

“I’m very good at what I do.”

Kerry looked up at Susan, who winked. 

A comfortable silence fell around them as Susan slowly administered the medication. Once the syringe was empty, she disposed of it and her gloves. 

“I’m going to go make sure that Suzie hasn’t killed Jerry yet,” Susan said, chuckling. “I’ll be right back.”

Susan smiled at Kerry’s nod and disappeared out the door. 

As soon as she had gone, Kerry felt alone. It had been  _ months _ since she had felt alone. 

Before Susan and Suzie moved in, she had felt alone constantly. 

Though it had been present at times during her childhood, it really set in as a young adult. After her parents died within eleven months of each other, she became not only the last Weaver left but also the only twenty-one year-old orphan she knew. 

It had alleviated a bit when she started dating Michael, but he started med school the fall after they graduated from undergrad. She had decided to take two years off to clean and sell her parents’ house and visit Africa, which meant they spent long periods of time away from each other. Not even getting married and starting med school herself helped fix that. 

And, of course, she had felt alone at County.

Not that she had made much of an effort to the contrary. She’d accepted long ago that when you were in a position of authority, you were going to piss people off. She’d had to get used to not being like and being called “bossy”, “shrew”, “backstabbing”, “cold”, “cruel”, and “bitch”. They weren’t the worst things she’d been called in her life, but they certainly weren’t very fun. 

But Susan and Suzie had changed all of that. 

It had been strange to have someone to visit regularly and even stranger to have someone living in her house that didn’t spend all their time in the basement or at the library studying. But  _ God _ was it worth it, even just to come home and have someone glad to see her. 

Kerry was jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of Susan’s return. The moment the door closed behind her, the feeling of being alone ceased as quickly as it had started. 

“How’s Suzie?” 

“She’s fine,” Susan replied. “She tried to make a break for it earlier, but Jerry caught up with her. He set her up in the lounge with some juice and  _ The Lion King _ , so she didn’t even  _ notice _ when I walked in.”

Kerry smiled weakly as Susan pulled up a stool next to the bed. 

“You know what I was wondering?” Susan asked rhetorically. “If I hadn’t been there and forced you to come in, would you have just laid there on the floor of the bathroom until you passed out? Or dragged yourself back to bed? I mean… who do you call at times like these? Who’s your emergency contact?”

Kerry took a moment to answer.

“I… I don’t have one.” She looked up to see Susan raise an eyebrow (most likely due to a rant earlier in the year regarding the importance of completing all of your HR paperwork). “I don’t have any family and all my friends are work colleagues. Besides, I figured I’d probably end up in the ER anyways.”

Susan nodded, thinking. 

“Well, when you’re feeling better, I want you to go get your forms and I want you to add me as your emergency contact. _Even_ _if_ it’s only while we live together,” she said, adding the last line quickly as she sensed an interruption coming. “I don’t like the idea of you being hurt or sick somewhere and no one telling me about it.”

Kerry looked like she might raise a disagreement, but eventually just sighed. 

“Fine.”

“Really? It was that easy?” Susan said approvingly. “I expected more of a fight.”

“I really don’t feel good.”

“Ah, so  _ that’s _ what it takes to win an argument with you…” Susan smiled appreciatively at the way Kerry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Duly noted.”

Kerry continued to narrow her eyes for a moment before she smiled. 

Unfortunately, a wave of nausea untouched by the Compazine threatened to rear its ugly head. She quickly closed her eyes against it, her expression pained. 

It passed without problem and she reopened her eyes to see Susan frowning at her, her brow furrowed. 

“Still feeling bad?”

Kerry nodded very slightly so as not to tempt the nausea. 

“You want me to comfort you the way I comfort Suzie?” Susan offered, only half-joking.

“What? You’re going to sing me ‘Blackbird’?”

“Oh,  _ God  _ no,” Susan said, laughing. “The fact that you’ve heard me sing it to Suzie is mortifying enough. No. Here.”

Susan stood up and took a seat in the empty space on the bed next to Kerry. She took a moment to adjust herself before she wrapped an arm around Kerry and pulled her close, tucking Kerry’s head into her shoulder.

Her doctor brain was reminding her that the person she was currently comforting was highly contagious and doing this was close to guaranteeing they’d be in opposite positions within the next few days.

The rest of her brain told her doctor brain to shut up, unless it was willing to linger on that role-swapping idea where Kerry was comforting her instead.

But almost as soon as her thoughts started going there, she felt Kerry pull away from her. 

For a moment, Susan readied herself to grab an emesis basin, thinking that nausea had returned en force. But that didn’t seem to be the matter.

“You okay?” Susan asked quietly. 

“Yes, it’s just…”

Kerry didn’t need to finish the sentence for Susan to know those once-impenetrable-but-now-much-more-permeable walls that Kerry built around herself were  building themselves back up. 

“Sorry,” she found herself apologizing as she pulled her arm back. “That was too much, right?”

“I just… it’s…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Susan said quickly. She moved from the edge of the bed back to the stool. 

“It’s not-”

“You don’t have to explain,” Susan pressed. “I went too far and I’m sorry.” 

Susan’s heart pounded in her chest uncomfortably in expectation of a Weavering. She fought between the instinct to avoid eye contact and to stare Kerry down, just in case they started to argue.  

“It’s not… you didn’t do anything wrong,” Kerry said quietly. “It’s just…”

Susan, who had been staring resolutely at the wall above Kerry’s head, let her eyes flick down to Kerry and was surprised to the other woman’s looking anxious.

Susan looked at her straight on, but now it was Kerry who was avoiding eye contact.

“What?”

“I…” Kerry leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “I… I have… feelings f-for you. And…  I don’t want to lose you as a friend or anything - and I know you’re just trying to be comforting… But it’s… it’s too much for me. I’m sorry.”

The apology and the woman saying it came out as barely more than a squeak. 

Susan blinked. She took a breath, ready to say something, but then closed her mouth again. But the longer it took for Susan to respond, the more Kerry’s anxiety grew. 

“I-I… I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry.”

Had someone just come out to her the way she had to Susan, she’d have told them off for feeling the need to apologize. And yet, it was the only thing she could say.

She’d ruined everything. Everything good that they had built over the last eight months, everything she cherished. Her friendship with Susan. Helping out with Suzie. It was gone. 

Why had she said that? Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth  _ shut? _ She had been doing so well. Why did she have to ruin it right now?

Her chest tightened. She wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or stop breathing or what, but it made her feel even worse than she already did.

Susan, who had been trying to process these revelations as well as connect the dots that had led up to these revelations, managed to snap back to the present just in time to see Kerry staring at her wide-eyed. The last time she had seen her do so was that time in the lounge with Doug Ross. 

“Hey, hey,” she said as quickly and as reassuringly as she could. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Kerry said in a terrified whisper. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s okay that you did,” Susan said. She took a breath and tried to sound sincere. “It’s  _ okay _ . I promise you, it’s okay. I’m just… I’m just a little surprised is all. I… I didn’t know you were gay.”

Kerry shuddered involuntarily at the word “gay”, but said nothing.

“And I take it… you didn’t either?” Susan asked slowly.

She received a small nod in reply.

“Well…” Susan began, “I’m honored. It’s never easy to admit that kind of thing to someone, especially when you haven’t quite.... gotten okay with it yet. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Kerry replied in a small voice. “You’re - you’re not mad?”

“What? No, no. I just… I just needed a moment because... well, this changes things.”

“I don’t want it to,” Kerry responded quickly. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. You’re… I really like having you as a friend and I don’t want this to change that. Really.”

Susan considered the words for a second and then frowned. 

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “It doesn’t have to change anything.”

Kerry let out a sigh of relief, but the relief was short lived as she was bothered by the fact that Susan still continued to frown.

“Susan?” she asked cautiously, worried that there was still the possibility of some kind of rejection. “Are you - are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine,” Susan replied. “I just… I might want it to change things.”

There went any lingering relief.

“Change things how?”

Susan gave herself a moment to figure out what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it. 

“I realized recently that I might have feelings for  _ you _ ,” she started slowly, “and I thought you were straight, which was… let’s say, a bit of a protective factor. But if you’re  _ not _ , and you also have feelings for  _ me _ … then maybe it’s okay if things change a bit.”

It was Kerry’s turn to take her time to respond. When she did, the confusion in her voice was unmistakable.

“I thought you were with Mark?” she stated, “and I thought  _ you _ were straight…”

“Mark? No. I mean… he’s my best friend and I love him dearly. And…  _ maybe _ there was something there at one point. But not anymore,” Susan replied. “And as for being straight, well, I’ve been  _ very _ aware of my bisexuality since I was fifteen and sat between the Fletcher twins, Daniel and Sarah, who were both 6’1 and built like Greek gods. I nearly failed sophomore English.”

Silence fell between them as they both pondered the implications of all of this. 

Susan was the first one to speak.

“So… do you want to try something more?” she asked, figuring it was best to put the ball in Kerry’s court. “I mean… we already live together and are basically co-parenting a child together. Why not throw some romance into the mix? By heterosexual standards, that was supposed to have come first.”

Susan seemed so at ease with the idea that part of Kerry was sure that she was lying. 

“Are… are you serious?”

“If you want me to be,” Susan said, before adding, “though I’ll warn you: I am  _ not _ kissing you while you feel like this.”

Kerry smiled slightly and started to feel the tightness in her chest begin to relax. But then the thought of coming out to the other ER staff hit her and it immediately began to tighten again.

“I’m not… I’m not ready to-” Kerry took a deep breath, thought it proved difficult. “I don’t want to… to tell anyone. Not yet.”

“That’s fine with me,” Susan said, shrugging. “I won’t rush you.”

Kerry nodded, clearly relieved. Then, Susan had a thought.

“I  _ do _ think we should tell Maggie Doyle, though.”

Kerry frowned. 

“Maggie? Why?”

“Well, I think she might have figured out that you were a lesbian before you did. And I think she deserves to know she was right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride folx! I don't know about you, but this weekend is my city's Pride weekend, so it kind of worked out that this chapter would be ready today.
> 
> Again, I apologize that this took so long. I knew what I wanted out of this chapter, but I kept going back and forth as to how I wanted it to happen. I hope that it was in character for both of them. When writing fanfiction, especially AUs, even when changing small plot or character things, my duty is to be loyal to the characters and do them justice. If I'm not, please let me know. 
> 
> Just so you know, the plan is to start skipping ahead faster (now that we've finally reached this point). I won't go all over the place, but it might progress faster than the fourteen chapters I've spent on season three alone. If you're following along at home, Chapter One started at "Fire in the Belly" and Chapter Fourteen takes place between "Homeless for the Holidays" and "Night Shift". I'm going to try and make it clear where we are as I start moving forward, but just in case it's not clear, I'll mention the episode(s) in the notes at the end.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! They keep me going and I appreciate every single one. 
> 
> Until next time. 


	15. Chapter 15

To Susan, the most surprising thing about starting a relationship with Kerry Weaver was how little things changed between them.

They still went to work, saved lives, and came home. They picked Suzie up or dropped Suzie off at daycare when it was their turn. And depending on their schedules, they had dinner before putting Suzie to bed.

The difference came after Suzie was downstairs. Where typically Susan would retire to bed or come upstairs to sit on the couch and watch TV, if Kerry was around, they’d do those things together. 

These times were few and far between, at least at first. Even once Kerry started feeling better, their shifts were opposite each other as Kerry was working nights to collect data for a study.

But the rarity of these occasions made only made them more fun.

Well, more fun and also a little bit unbearable.

When more than a week passed in between their times together at home, Susan started to feel it acutely. She’d try and sneakily flirt or steal a kiss at work, but Kerry was incredibly cautious and limited their already-limited opportunities even more.

As February rolled around, Susan was getting so desperate that when she happened to catch a glimpse of Kerry in her black turtleneck with her hair pulled back like an austere school teacher walking side-by-side down the hall next to Doug Ross with his chiseled jawline and graying hair , she had a small bisexual panic attack.

(Regardless of her feelings about Doug Ross, there was no denying he was a very attractive man.)

As Valentine’s Day approached, she was nearly beside herself. 

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked as Susan angrily crossed something out on a chart. 

They were both standing at the admit desk, having spent the better part of the last half hour listening to the nurses lament the fact that Carol was still off on her suspension.

Today, Lydia and Lily were bemoaning the fact that without Carol around, there was nothing stopping dumbass interns from offending the nursing staff. For some reason, Carol could either charm or scare the interns more than the other nurses could. Susan had already been called in twice to break up disagreements and punish the interns. 

If she heard another “Dr. Lewis, will you  _ please _ tell so-and-so to stop” one more time, she would pick up the complainer and physically carry them up to daycare to play with the other two-year-olds.

At Mark’s question, Susan blinked.

“Sorry, what?”

“You seem a little tense,” he remarked. “Having to sort out more interprofessional squabbles, I take it?”

“What? Oh, no, no. I put an end to that when I told Dr. Wilson that if he couldn’t play nice with the nurses, I was going to call his parents to come pick him up. He hasn’t looked me in the eye since, but he also hasn’t offended the nurses again, so I consider it a win.,” Susan said with exasperated sarcasm. She rolled her eyes. “I have too many letters after my name to have to babysit people like this.”

“Yeah, well, you got the short end of the stick this year with Southside closing. We’ve got more interns than usual.”

“You know what?  _ Thank you _ ,” Susan said sincerely. “I was trying to tell Kerry that earlier and she didn’t believe me. But it’s true. We have a bunch of interns and not very many second or third-years this year, which is  _ I _ have to be the one to babysit them. 

“She then told then told me that as Chief Resident, I don’t have to babysit interns, that’s why we have residents, to which I told her that she missing my point entirely… and then I walked away before she could say anything else.”

Mark nodded as Susan scribbled her signature fiercely on the bottom of a chart and set it aside. 

“Is that what’s wrong? That conversation with Weaver?”

“No. It’s just…” 

Susan leaned forward and rested her elbows on the admit desk before rubbing her face in her hands. When she pulled up, she set her chin in her hand.

“I’m trying to figure out what to do for Valentine’s Day.”

Mark nodded again. He took a breath and cleared his throat a little. He leaned forward to match Susan.

“Well, if you don’t have any plans,” he said quietly, “maybe you and I could go out to dinner together. If you want to.”

Susan frowned for a second before it dawned on her what he was doing. She gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean… I meant I am just trying to finalize plans, but I already have a date,” she said softly. “I’ve kind of been seeing someone.”

“Oh. Okay then,” Mark said, recovering best he could. “You didn’t mention it before. Who is it?”

“Actually, I can’t tell you....”

“You can’t _? _ Like, you’ll get in trouble if you do?”

“No, not like that,” Susan said, shaking her head. “We just agreed to keep it quiet. _ Mutually _ agreed.”

Mark’s brow remained furrowed for a moment before his expression changed to one of realization. 

“They work here, don’t they?”

“Yes,” Susan confirmed, “and we both know that no one in this hospital can keep their damn mouth shut about anything.”

At that moment, Susan shot a look towards the group of nurses, who had temporarily stopped talking about Carol to eavesdrop on her and Mark’s conversation. They turned away sheepishly, but Susan knew they were still listening.

“So, if you’ve already got a date, what’s the hold up on plans?” Mark asked. “Think they’ll cancel on you?”

“No, it’s just… I’m trying to find the right balance, you know.”

“The right balance,” Mark repeated, not understanding what she meant.

“You know, the right ratio.” At his blank look, she clarified, “the Valentine's Day ratio?”

“Like… the ratio of chocolates to roses?” Mark guessed, totally not getting her meaning at all. 

“No, I mean the-” Susan dropped her voice “- the ratio of romance to horniness. The Valentine’s Day ratio.”

At the words “ratio of romance to horniness”, Mark snickered. Susan gave him a look.

“Come on. You mean you’ve  _ never _ considered that when trying to make Valentine’s Day plans?”

“Never,” Mark said, shaking his head and continuing to chuckle. “Not even once.”

“Well, you haven’t lived.”

She smiled, and put a hand on his arm reassuringly, as she knew she’d hurt him by turning down his advances. He accepted it and continued to laugh at the new ratio he apparently needed to consider in his future romantic plans.

 

Kerry was suspiciously quiet the entire car ride to dinner. 

Susan, who was focused on watching street signs in the early evening darkness, didn’t comment on this. She figured that Kerry was tired. Father allI, it wasn’t necessarily  _ uncommon _ to be tired when you spend the day taking car of people.

It wasn’t until they had parked and made their way through the bitter February cold  into the restaurant that Kerry finally spoke up.

“Why did we drive so far north just for dinner?”

“Well, I wanted to go somewhere special,” Susan said with a shrug. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day and because I don’t think we’ve ever actually gone _ out _ for dinner together.”

Kerry didn’t say anything, but she looked around the restaurant with such intense focus, she looked like she might be memorizing the details to report some kind of horrible crime.

The maitre d’ led them back to a booth in the back of the restaurant. Once seated, he passed them menus and left.

Susan opened hers immediately and started looking through the dinner options, but Kerry continued to look around.

Finally, she leaned forward across the table and dropped her voice to such a low whisper that Susan had to strain to hear her.

“There… There are no straight couples in this restaurant.”

Susan glanced around, a small smile on her face, before turning her attention back to the menu.

“I wouldn’t think so,” she said, smirking, “seeing as we’re in the gayborhood.”

“We’re in the _ what? _ ”

“The gayborhood,” Susan repeated. “The gay neighborhood. The gayborhood. Boystown. And no, I didn’t make that up. I saw it in one of the restaurant listings I saw.”

Susan glanced over her menu to see Kerry looking stricken. She lowered the menu, a tiny bit of frustration growing inside her at the look on her girlfriend’s face.

“I thought that since you might be concerned about going out together, you might feel better if we were somewhere we knew it wouldn’t be a problem to anyone,” Susan explained. 

“You should have told me this is where we were coming,” Kerry hissed.

Susan opened her mouth to reply but was prevented from doing so by the arrival of the waitress. 

“Can I start you ladies off with something to drink?”

“I’ll have a Diet Coke,” Susan responded, relieved to have something to distract her from getting upset with Kerry.

“And I’ll have an iced tea,” Kerry said quietly.

The waitress scribbled the drinks on her pad.

“Alrighty. And do you know what you want yet or do you still need a few minutes to decide?”

“A few minutes would be great,” Susan answered quickly.

The waitress nodded and walked away to get their drinks. Susan turned back to Kerry.

“Look,” she said in a low voice, “if I had known that this would bother you so much, I would have picked somewhere else. I just thought it might make you more comfortable.”

It was very clear that Kerry had something to say about this, but whatever it was, she was doing her best to hold her tongue.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Without conversation between them, it became clear to Susan just how quiet the restaurant was. She almost wished it was louder, just to hide how silent their table had fallen. 

The waitress returned a few minutes later with their drinks and took their orders. Kerry seemed distracted the entire time she was trying to order and had to restart her order twice because she kept losing track of what she was saying. By the time she had successfully finished ordering the seared mahi-mahi with a side of the house spinach salad, the waitress looked exhausted.

Silence fell again, but this time without menus as an excuse not to talk to each other.

Finally, after several minutes of Kerry surreptitiously glancing around the restaurant, she looked at Susan.

“Have you ever dated a woman before?”

“No,” Susan replied. “There was an ‘almost’ back in college, but, no, nothing official.”

“Then…” Kerry shook her head. “Then, how can you be so comfortable with this?”

“Well, for one, I’ve had  _ fifteen years _ to come to terms with this. You’ve had, what, fifteen minutes?” Susan sighed. “And, besides, to me… to me, honestly, it’s stranger to me that I’m dating  _ you _ than it is that I dating a woman. It’s different, but not…  _ hugely _ different. At least to me.”

Susan was sure that Kerry was going to snap back into her normal self and tell her off for the implications of emphasizing the “you” in that sentence. In fact, she was counting on it. That was part of the reason why she had said it. 

So, for Kerry to remain frozen in fear concerned Susan greatly. 

“It’s just…” Kerry crossed her arms tightly against her body, closing herself off even more. “What if someone we know comes in? Or- or what if someone here comes to County and recognizes us? Recognizes me, recognizes you?”

Susan paused, thinking.

“I think if someone we knew came in,” she said after a moment, “we’d have just as many questions for them as they would for us. Or maybe, we’d just nod to each other and then continue having dinner like normal people.”

She paused another moment to consider the second question. 

“And as far as if someone here came all the way down to County to visit the ER, and they recognized us and thought ‘hey, I saw these doctors at that one restaurant in Boystown’ which, I might add, is  _ not _ going to happen,” Susan explained, “then I think they might be a bit… happy about it.”

“Happy?” Kerry asked incredulously. “Why on earth would they be  _ happy? _ ”

“Because they’d know that they were being taken care of by someone who’s part of the community. Part of the family.” At Kerry’s confused expression, Susan elaborated. “It’s like… it’s like how sometimes female patients prefer to have you or I as their doctor instead of Mark or Doug. They just feel safer. And I think that knowing you were like them would make them feel safer too.”

This managed to keep Kerry preoccupied for a short while. Susan watched her tension ease  _ ever _ so slightly. But any hope that this could allow them to move forward and have a pleasant, if still tense, dinner was dashed when Kerry excused herself to the restroom and didn’t return within the normal timeframe. 

“How are you ladies-” 

The waitress stopped in her tracks next to the table when she spotted Susan, alone, sitting with her chin in her hand and the seat across from her empty. 

Susan looked up at her and gave her a tired half-smile.

“We’re doing fine, thanks.”

The waitress raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Then where’s your date?”

“In the bathroom. Where’s she’s been for the last…” Susan checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

“You better be careful. We’ve got a window in there,” the waitress warned. “It’s a bit of a climb up, but people  _ have _ been known to escape.”

“Thanks for letting me know, but I doubt it. I’m her ride home,” Susan replied. “The thought of riding the El home alone at this time of night is enough to prevent her from leaving. But if it’s not, I can tell you that she can’t climb out of the window and I’m watching the bathroom door from here.”

The waitress chuckled. 

“Let me guess…” she said, tapping her chin with an index finger, “she’s not out, is she?”

“No, she is not.”

“Doesn’t that frustrate you?” the waitress asked, before realizing her misstep at the way Susan’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, sorry. I just meant… don’t you feel sometimes like it’s a waste of your time? To try so hard on someone who doesn’t want to come out themselves and hides in the bathroom on Valentine’s Day?”

Susan, who had looked back towards the bathroom door, saw it open, and almost sat up. But it was another woman.

Though she was indeed frustrated, the thought of Kerry sitting in the bathroom, too scared to come out and have dinner with her, made her heart ache more than her it made her anger burn.

“I don’t have patience with her on a lot of things,” Susan said slowly. “But I can have patience with her on this.”

The waitress watched Susan watch the door for a moment.

“You must really love her then.”

Susan glanced back up at the waitress.

“But I’ll just let you know,” the waitress continued, before Susan could say anything, “that if she  _ doesn’t _ come back, I’ll give you her dinner on the house, okay?”

Without another word, the waitress walked away and Susan’s attention was drawn back to the bathroom door. 

Only a few minutes passed before the waitress was back with the two plates of food. Figuring she had waited long enough, Susan made her way to the bathroom.

It was small, with only two salmon-colored stalls that definitely didn’t fit the rest of the hip decor. A quick check under the doorway found only one of the stalls occupied.

“I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in,” Susan said right before she swung the stall door open. 

Kerry was standing against the far wall inside the larger of the two stalls. She barely seemed to register Susan’s presence, instead, continuing to stare at the tiled floor.

“Well, you’re still here, so I guess that we’ll have to pay for your dinner after all.”

Kerry looked up at this, clearly confused, which made Susan chuckle and step closer to her. She took a place, her hands behind her back, next to where Kerry stood. 

“The waitress said that if you climbed out the window, she’d give me your food on the house,” Susan explained. “And our food is out there, by the way. And you are more than welcome to come out there and eat with me, or you can stay in here and I’ll grab you when I’m ready to go. It’s up to you.”

Kerry nodded before closing her eyes. Her expression conveyed both disappointment and frustration at once. It was a look Susan had seen Kerry wear, but she was sure she never had seen it directed internally before.

“It’s… I would be fine if it was just dinner,” Kerry said in a low voice, “if… if I thought we were just having dinner together. But- but knowing that it’s a  _ date _ …”

Her voice faded.

“I told you that I wasn’t going to rush you,” Susan said, gently slipping her hand into Kerry’s, “and I won’t. But I assure you that this is the safest place for us to be, okay?”

She lifted Kerry’s hand to her lips and kissed it before releasing her fingers. There was brief, infinitesimale moment where Susan was sure Kerry was going to grab it back and not let go, but she didn’t. 

She did, however, join Susan at the table a few minutes later.  

They ate together in silence, but it was a more comfortable silence than they’d sat in all evening.

 

The sky was as black as midnight, even though it was only about nine pm by the time they returned home. 

They base goodnight to their babysitter Rochelle and made their way into the kitchen.

The drive back had been quiet too, but, like how dinner had been a more comfortable silence, this had been a more contemplative silence than the suspicious silence on their drive north. 

Tired both physically and mentally, Susan decided to call it a night and started for the basement. (So much for her Valentine’s Day ratio.)

As they made their way into the kitchen, Susan made for the basement while Kerry lingered at the island. 

“I’m on at nine a.m. tomorrow, so I’m going to head to bed,” Susan began, hoping just a little bit that now that they were safe at home that the rest of the tension Kerry held could evaporate. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Kerry did not look up. She just set her crutch up against the counter and sat down on the stool. 

Disappointed, but not surprised, Susan waited for just a second before opening the door and starting her way downstairs. 

But then she turned and stepped back into the kitchen.

Kerry, who had buried her face in her hands at Susan’s absence, immediately straightened up. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, both from dinner and from being caught in a moment of vulnerability.

“What?” she asked quickly. 

Susan’s brow furrowed. 

“Are you… okay?” Realizing the way the question came out. Susan quickly added, “I mean… Is there something else going on? Something that might be, oh, I don’t know.. Exacerbating this?

“Not to say you shouldn’t be scared. I mean, it’s- it’s really shitty that we have to go through all this introspection and have to be really fearful of just going out to dinner with someone we care about but… But I like to think that I’ve gotten to know you pretty well. Certainly better than anyone  _ else _ we work with at least. And… and this doesn’t fit your patterns.”

“My patterns?”

“Yeah. You know, like your behaviors. Like how when you feel hurt - physically, emotionally - you get touchy. Touchier than usual, I should say. You lash out more. You did it to me when you thought I was sick of you and again when you were sitting on the floor feeling miserable. When you feel hurt, or even when you feel backed into a corner, your natural response is to fight back. 

“And I know that part of this whole process is learning things about yourself and how maybe some things about yourself are a lot different than you thought, but tonight? When you were so terrified that you could barely even just sit there and eat dinner with? That… that didn’t feel right. 

“It would have made sense if you got mad at me. Or intentionally did or said things to push me away, but this wasn’t even  _ that _ . This was just… pure terror. And- and it didn’t feel right to me because… well, because you’re  _ Kerry Weaver _ . You don’t scared like that. So, maybe it is just all of this, or maybe something else is coming up too.”

Kerry looked down at the granite countertop. 

Even now as Susan said it, Kerry was inclined to tell her off. To tell her that that was ludicrous and that she never acted like that and to even suggest such a thing was insulting. 

“I can’t tell you what else might be coming up,” Susan said, taking a seat next to Kerry at the island. “Maybe it was a relationship that ended badly or something more… internal. Or maybe it’s nothing else at all. But I think that maybe you should talk to someone about it. I mean, you can talk to me, and I’ll be here to support you, but I mean talking to someone professionally.”

Susan took a deep breath and smiled slightly.

“Because, and God help me, I really care about you. And I see a lot of, let’s say… potential for us. And I want to see that potential come to fruition. And while I’ll never rush you, I want you to be able to enjoy those things with me.

“And if you happen to sort out some other things too, well, that wouldn’t be too bad either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. You know how I said we'd start moving faster? Well, I lied. This chapter took place between _Night Shift_ and  _The Long Way Around._ We've still got this and at least one more chapter taking place in season three. Sorry. But  _then_ it'll get faster. I promise.
> 
> I realized as I was writing this chapter that the other (rare) fics I've read that feature a relationship between Susan and Kerry almost always involve  _Kerry_ being the one who educates Susan on being in a relationship with a woman. But seeing as Susan is probably one of the most patient characters on this show, I thought I'd flip the script a little bit. I'm curious to know whether you think it makes sense or not. 
> 
> Also, if you can't tell, I've done a lot of character analysis on Kerry Weaver. We don't get to learn a  _whole_ lot about her childhood and, really,  _any_ of her life prior to coming to County, so I've filled in a lot of the blanks. But, if you pay attention to her personality and thought processes, it doesn't take much to explain her behavior. Maybe it's just because I am professionally trained to understand the biological, psychological, social, and systemic effects on a person to understand them better, but, of all the characters, even with as little information about her backstory as we have, she is a very easy character to analyze. We get to see a lot of her thought process and seeing her as a person in the environment in which she lives, she makes a lot of sense (to me, at least).
> 
> As always, I apprciate your kudos and comments and ask that if you don't think something fits in character to let me know. Thank you for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

Kerry did  _ not _ like counseling. 

But the only thing worse than a stranger pointing out her insecurities and making her feel incredibly vulnerable was that the fact that her gut reaction to get mad at the counselor and be angry with Susan about encouraging her to go only proved Susan’s point about her propensity for lashing out. 

The problem was that Kerry had, true to form, done her homework  _ too  _ well. 

She had cross-referenced the County General Hospital Employee Assistance Program preferred provider list to a “Lavender List” of LGBT-friendly healthcare providers. From the three options that allowed, she chose a social worker at a private practice in Evanston. Though the drive was long, the distance between the office and County served as a protective bubble.

The social worker, a black lesbian in her mid-fifties named Dana Scott, was highly-recommended and Kerry quickly learned why.

It only took one session of Kerry answering questions about her life, her job, and her social systems and one session of “exploring” those things for Dana to accurately point out the fact that Kerry’s fear over coming out seemed intimately tied to her disability and that both of these things fed into her fear of losing her position and the ability to advance in her career over things she could not change about herself. One more session and, after only twenty minutes of discussing Kerry’s family, Dana figured out that the root of her fears over losing things because of her sexuality and disability was the fact that she had been given up for adoption and never knew why. 

The drives back into the city from Evanston alternated between stunned silence, bubbling anger, and tears. 

None of these things were  _ new _ to her, of course. She just had such a difficult time accepting that a stranger could ask a few questions and tell her her deepest, darkest fears. And as much as she wanted to think that this was all just guesswork, she knew that just as she was trained to solve problems in the human body, Dana was trained to solve problems in the human mind. 

The only thing that made her keep making the weekly trek north to Evanston was how strongly she wanted to be able to go out with Susan and not feel scared. 

When she had told Dana this during their first session, the social worker immediately wrote it down.

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about goal setting until the  _ end _ of the assessment,” Dana said, scribbling the note on one of the pieces of paper in front of her, “but that’s good to know. You see, in social work, one of the theories we operate in is called the ‘strengths theory’. And strengths theory basically says that each one of us has strengths, innate factors that help us and protect us when times are hard. And I can tell just by talking to you that you’re a person who gets things done. You have goals you want to meet and you see to it that you meet them. So, if we consider that a strength of yours, and you just set a goal, then what we have to do now is see what’s holding you back.”

 

Susan erased a patient she had just transferred to Medicine from the board, trying not to double over in laughter as behind her Carol accused Kerry of writing the cheesy ER romance novel that had been making its rounds through the department all morning. She was just about to join in on the fun when paramedic Pamela Olbes appeared in the doorway next to her.

“Hey, somebody,” she called out, “I need help now.”

Immediately, Susan and Kerry turned and followed her.

“Is this the ALOC 57 called in?” Susan asked as she and Olbes burst out the ambulance bay doors, Kerry not far behind.

“He had a stroke.”

“Why aren’t you in uniform?” Kerry asked as Olbes opened the ambulance doors and started helping the other paramedic Doris Pickford lower the gurney. 

“My day off,” Olbes replied, distractedly. Her attention was on the elderly black man on the gurney in front of her.  “It’s okay, gramps. We’re here now. You’re gonna be okay.”

Susan and Kerry both took hold of the gurney and started to push it forward. 

“He had a stroke, I know it.”

“Okay-”

“We had acute stroke training last week. I did the SAS test on him”

“Slow down-”

“It’s mild arm squeeze,” Pickford added. “He’s got one-sided weakness.”

“I went by to take him grocery shopping,” Olbes continued, barely noticing anything or anyone else as she moved Gramps towards the ambulance bay doors. “I always go by on my day off-”

“Bullet, Olbes. Give me the bullet,” Kerry cut in as they moved the gurney indoors.

“73-year-old African American male, ALOC, slurred speech-”

“Loss of motion on the left side,” Pickford finished.

Olbes gripped the gurney tighter. 

“He’s never been sick before.” 

“Vitals?” Susan asked.

Pickford has just answered “BP 175/100” before Olbes added, “ I didn’t have a cuff. Pulse was 140”.

“How long ago did you find him?” Susan asked, not meaning to cut Kerry off as she did so. 

“20 minutes ago,” Olbes replied. “I called it in right away.”

“We were closer to Mercy,” Pickford pointed out, “but Pam insisted on coming here.”

“Why?” Kerry asked, this time cutting off Susan as both were trying to get their questions in before one of the paramedics could cut them off.

“I knew you’d set up a new treatment program for stroke.”

Susan looked up at Kerry in time to see her frown. 

“Call Dr. Greene,” Kerry instructed.

They pushed the gurney into the trauma room and each took hold of one of the gurney handles. 

“On my count,” Susan announced loudly. “One… two… three…”

There was simultaneous movement as everyone hoisted Gramps onto the trauma table. 

Susan had just accepted an IV bag passed to her by Malik when the trauma room doors opened and Mark came in. 

“Possible brain attack?”

“Yes,” Kerry replied. “This is paramedic Olbes’ grandfather.”

“Alright. Let’s get a CBC, PT, PTT, platelet count, fibrinogen… And type and cross four units.”

Chuny followed through the trauma doors as Mark finished listing off the tests. 

“Team’s on alert,” she informed Mark. “Malik, record the BP.”

With the addition of Chuny, Susan felt overcrowded and took the opportunity to step back as Mark gave more directions and Kerry pulled out her pen light to observe Gramps’ pupils. 

Though it was busy as hell inside the small room, it was a bit nice to stand back and just watch Mark and Kerry work. Maybe it was the fact that Olbes as a paramedic and could answer so many of their questions with ease, but the rapid pace and discerning judgement of the attendings’ was on full display. 

Until Olbes asked the question that had clearly been weighing on her mind as well, Susan was sure, on everyone else’s.

“Are you going to give him tPA?”

Susan’s brow rose and she prepared herself for this nice rapport that had been built over the last two minutes immediately implode. 

Mark and Kerry stood on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to  tissue plasminogen activator, or tPA, a cutting edge but controversial treatment for strokes. In this case, Kerry was unusually conservative for one who was usually so energized by new treatments. 

“That’s what he needs right?”

Kerry looked at Mark, her own brow raised, and Susan imagined she could read both of their minds. Or at least, she predicted someone was going to take a swing at the other within the next five minutes and, if history was any indicator, it was probably going to be the one holding the medical-grade aluminum crutch.

“That’s what we’re trying to assess,” Mark said to Olbes reassuringly. “Do you know when the symptoms began?”

“No,” Olbes replied nervously.

“Do you know anybody who might?”

“Uh…” Olbes paused, thinking. “Maybe his neighbor. They - they walk to get their papers in the morning.”

“Can you give him a call?” Mark asked. At Olbes’ nod, he continued, “go,  _ go. _ ”

Olbes raced from the trauma room and was quickly followed by other members of the stroke team as they moved Gramps upstairs to CT.

Kerry and Mark hung back, and with them Susan, who had been squished up against the wall and probably couldn’t have left if she’d wanted to.

“This is what I was afraid of with the stroke team,” Kerry said. “People have heard there’s a miracle cure. They don’t understand the risks-”

“ _ I  _ understand the risks,” Mark interjected.

He started out the doors to follow Gramps and Kerry, in turn followed him. Not wanting to miss any of the action, and also to get out of the cramped space, Susan came too.

“I’ve seen patients hemorrhage with tPA. It’s no cure-all.”

“That’s why we follow protocol.”

“The results aren’t convincing.”

“Look, Kerry, I know you have reservations,” Mark said, shaking his head. “That’s why I’m on the stroke team and you’re not.”

Kerry opened her mouth the reply, but didn’t. Instead, she stopped following Mark and threw up a hand defensively. 

“You know what? You’re right. This is up to you.”

Unprepared for this response, Mark stopped and turned back to her. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said it’s up to you. You’re right. You’re on the stroke team and I’m not, so I’ll just leave this to you.”

Mark stared. Whether Kerry noticed this or not, she didn’t say. She did, however, look at Susan, who looked  _ almost _ as surprised as Mark did. 

“Susan?”

“Uh, actually…” Susan pretended to take a second to think, though really she was trying to understand what had just happened. “I’ve never seen tPA used before and I’m still on the fence so I was going to go with Mark…”

Kerry looked slightly disappointed, but just nodded. 

“Alright. I’ll have Dr. Wilson take your patients.” She turned to go back down the hall. She hadn’t taken two steps before she paused and turned back to them, frowning. “On second thought, I will have Dr. Doyle take your patients. We need to have a talk about Dr. Wilson.”

And with that, she left. 

It took the elevator doors closing behind them to jerk Mark back to reality. He blinked and then looked at Susan.

“That’s… that’s not the end of the conversation, is it?” he asked slowly. “She’s going to come back and yell at me, right?”

“Actually… I don’t think she is,” Susan replied in the same slow, contemplative tone. She raised her eyebrows, impressed. “How about that?”

Mark looked back to the spot Kerry had been standing in a second ago. 

“That’s the second time today she hasn’t told me off for something. Clearly  _ wanted to _ , but didn’t,” he said thoughtfully. He paused. “Is she sick?”

“What?  _ No, _ ” she said, chuckling. “She’s- she’s just been in a good mood lately.”

“Yeah. That’s  _ concerning _ .”

“I say, just ride the wave while you can because God knows when it’s going to crash.”

Mark still looked unconvinced, but he boarded the next elevator with Susan nonetheless.

“So,” he said, changing the subject, “interested in tPA, huh?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly done my homework on it, so I don’t know where I stand. So, instead of poring over a stack of journal articles, I figured I’d follow you and either be impressed or disappointed.”

“Yeah, well, you should  _ probably _ still read up on it.”

“I’m sure I will at some point,” Susan said, a tad bit defensively, “but I’ll be honest, given my amount of free time, it’s either take time to do a bunch of extra studying or raise my daughter. And I have to say, I’m a  _ bit _ biased in Suzie’s favor.”

Mark chuckled as the elevator door dinged and the pair stepped out onto the floor. They started towards CT.

“How is Suzie by the way?” Mark asked. “Doing well?”

“She is,” Susan confirmed, nodding. “She is a tornado in size 2T clothing.”

“Really?”

“ _ God,  _ yes,” Susan said. She exhaled deeply, shaking her head slightly as an expression of impressed exhaustion crossed her features. “She just has…  _ so much energy _ . And absolutely no concept of fear. It's only a matter of time before she takes one of us out at the knees, and I’m just  _ praying _ it’s me and not Kerry.”

Mark smiled and opened the door to the CT department. Susan returned the smile and made her way in.

“Well, for the sake of all of you, I hope  _ no one _ gets taken out at the knees,” Mark said quietly, “but if Suzie’s anything like Rachel was at that age, I’ve got a hockey goalie set you might want to borrow. It might be helpful at playtime.”

 

Kerry sat alone in the lounge, relishing the relief that came with getting off her feet for just a little bit. 

It was probably time to invest in a new pair of work shoes, given the way her feet throbbed the moment they didn’t have to bear her weight. It wouldn’t be too long before that throbbing was matched in her hip. And she knew that once she got to that point, it would be only be downhill from there.

Considering this, she made a mental note to go shopping this weekend.

Had Susan and Suzie  _ not _ been part of her life, she probably wouldn’t think about it until it was too late and would inevitably spend one her days off alone in bed in too much pain to even  _ think _ about getting up. But now that she had people not only depending on her, but wanting to spend those days off with her, the idea of ignoring her own needs until she suffered for it seemed like such a stupid idea.

The door to the lounge opened and Kerry looked up. She raised an eyebrow at the visitor, but a small smile crept onto her face nonetheless.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Mark and Olbes’ grandfather?” she asked as Susan opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

“There’s a bit of a lull so I thought I’d seize the opportunity to take a break.”

“Ah. I see. Well, has Mark successfully convinced you of the wonders of tPA?”

“The guy hasn’t woken up yet, so the jury's still out,” Susan said with a shrug. Then her lip curled into a smirk. “ _ You’ve  _ convinced me, though.”

Kerry frowned. 

“Convinced you of what?”

“You’re really doing this counseling thing, aren’t you?”

Heat rose in Kerry’s cheeks and it was not all because of the way Susan was smiling at her.

“Yes, I am. I told you I was.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I guess I didn’t I really believe it until I saw you just stop arguing with Mark… in the middle of an argument.” Susan shook her head. “It was… unheard of. I take it you’ve been discussing that with her?”

Kerry sighed. 

“We’ve had discussions about worrying and how much time I spend worrying about what other people are doing and thinking,” Kerry explained. “And she told me that I could just…  _ choose  _ not worry about certain things and work on trusting that the doctors I work with know what they’re doing.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Mark Greene is a good doctor. Though I don’t agree with him on his choice of treatment, it’s his patient, not mine. And I trust him to do right by his patients, even if it’s not in the same way I would.”

Kerry opened her eyes to find Susan staring at her wide-eyed.

“What?”

“It’s just… you said that without a  _ hint _ of sarcasm or condescension.”

Kerry gave her an exasperated look, which made Susan smile.

“I think that means it’s working,” Susan said encouragingly. “I’m proud of you.”

The color that had risen in Kerry’s cheeks deepened at the compliment. She muttered a word of gratitude, her blush making Susan grin all the more.

Then, as if she remembered something, Susan brightened.

“Okay,” she said quickly. “Now that we’ve talked about that, I have to ask the question I have been waiting  _ all day  _ to ask.”

She took a seat at the table across from Kerry, a playful glint in her eye. 

“So,” she said, lowering her voice in excitement, “have you read Carol’s book?”

Kerry rolled her eyes. 

“No, I haven’t.”

“Really? Why not?” Susan said in mock disappointment. “Was it the spelling errors? I heard you muttering about the paper the other day.”

“If the  _ Chicago Tribune _ is going to print a crossword with a spelling error, they might as well not print a crossword at all,” Kerry replied seriously. Then she relaxed a bit. “But no. That’s not why. It’s just… it’s a little bit…  _ mean _ , don’t you think?”

Susan paused, considering, and then nodded with a small shrug.

“I can see why you would feel that way,” Susan acknowledged, “but… did you read  _ any _ of it?”

“I got about a quarter of the way through before I gave up.”

“Well, you didn’t get to the  _ good part _ then,” Susan said sincerely. “Here. Hold on.” 

She jumped up from the chair and made her way to her locker. Kerry watched with mild amusement as Susan spun the lock. But as Susan pulled out a thick, bound stack of paper, Kerry rolled her eyes.

“You have your own copy?”

“Uh, yeah? Jerry made enough for everyone.”

Kerry rolled her eyes again as Susan started flipping through the book until she found the page she sought. From the looks of it, it was about two-thirds of the way through the book. Much farther than Kerry had read.

Susan cleared her throat and straightened up. 

“The blonde resident paused by the ambulance bay doors, looking out into the falling rain-”

“Why are you talking like that?” Kerry asked in regards to the dramatic, soap opera-esque voice Susan had assumed as she read.

Susan scoffed and her shoulders drooped as she gave Kerry a look of utter disappointment. She put one hand on her hip.

“I’m setting the mood. Now  _ hush _ .”

Susan straightened up again as she continued. 

“The blonde resident paused by the ambulance bay doors, looking out into the falling rain. What was she thinking about? The tragedy of the previous trauma? The fleetingness of life and death, how everything we love can taken from us so quickly. Or perhaps, she was thinking about the redheaded attending, waiting just outside the door for the next trauma to arrive.

“Every drop of rain turned the attending’s trauma gown a deeper shade of yellow. Suzanne watched as the attending adjusted herself on her crutch, drawing Suzanne’s eyes down to her hands. She thought of the calluses she had felt when their hands touched ever so briefly during the trauma and her breath hitched as she imagined how those calluses might feel rubbing over her-”

“ _ It does not say that!”  _ Kerry hissed. 

But Susan only grinned mischievously. 

“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted. “But you have to admit, that was pretty hot.”

It was (obviously), but there was no way in hell that Kerry was going to say that.

“Hang on...” Susan said slowly, narrowing her eyes. “I thought you said you didn’t read it.”

“I didn’t.”

Susan leaned forward, a smug smile growing on her face.

“Then how did you know it doesn’t say that?”

Kerry scoffed. 

“Because I have common sense,” she pushed. 

Susan placed a hand over her heart, her jaw dropping in amazement.

“Oh my God. Carol was right. You  _ did  _ write the book.

“What?” Kerry said, taken aback. “No, I did not.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Susan said, lighting up and clapping like Suzie on Christmas morning. “Oh my God, I have so much more respect for you now.”

Before Kerry could get in a word edgewise, Susan’s expression changed to one of great offense. She crossed her arms indignantly.

“Wait, no I don’t.” She held up the book in her hand. “This whole fucking book and not  _ once _ does the blonde Chief Resident just go to town on the redheaded attending.”

“ _ Susan _ ,” Kerry snapped, but it had no effect.

“It would be a great plot point,” Susan said, stepping forward towards Kerry at the table, “because everyone would think that it’s the alpha bitch attending who’s in charge, but  _ really _ it’s the blonde Chief Resident.”

Taking a risk, Susan bent over and began kissing the side of Kerry’s neck. Kerry scrunched up her shoulders against it, but she was smiling.

“Stop,” she chuckled as Susan brushed hair away from her shoulder.

At the order, Susan leaned close to her ear. 

“ _ Make me _ .”

It sent a chill down Kerry’s spine.

“See?” Susan asked in her normal, albeit excited, voice. “It practically writes itself!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kerry said, shaking her head as she stood up.

“You know, you’re right. The book’s already written. There’s no point in changing it now,” Susan said, nodding sincerely. “And since you already wrote the first one, I’ll write the second one. It’ll be tender and romantic… but still really hot.”

Kerry  _ really _ wanted to be her normal, fearsome self and put her foot down, but between counseling softening her formidable exterior and Susan’s impish flirtations making her laugh, she was powerless. 

And, in proof that these trips to Evanston really  _ were _ working (though, admittedly, they were alone in the lounge with little chance of discovery), she let Susan wrap her arms around her from behind. 

The sound of the door jerked them back to reality a second later though, and they jumped apart as Chuny stuck her head in.

Whether Chuny sensed what was going on, she didn’t tell.

“Hey Dr. Weaver, there’s a Dr. Del Amico here? She said that she had talked to you on the phone?” 

“Oh, yes, yes,” Kerry said quickly, nodding. She brushed herself off in an effort to look nonchalant, though her heart was beating  _ very _ fast. “I’ll be right there.”

Chuny nodded and disappeared out the door.

Susan frowned. 

“Dr. Del Amico?”

“New resident.”

“Ah,” Susan said, nodding. “Should I come?”

“If you like.”

Susan was very tempted to sneak in one last kiss, but Kerry was already making for the door. 

 

They toured Anna Del Amico around the ER for a little while before relinquishing her to Doug Ross. She was, after all, a pediatrician and was getting certified in emergency medicine as well. It only made sense to pair her off with the department’s pediatric emergency fellow.

“So, have you found a place yet?” Susan asked as she accompanied Anna back to the admit desk. Doug had grabbed her on the way out of meeting with a patient and asked her to take Anna back, saying he was “intimidated” by the new overachieving resident.

“Not yet. I’ve never lived anywhere but Philly and I’m not familiar with Chicago yet. It’s a big city. Kind of hard to know where to start.”

“Oh, well, I can help you,” Susan offered. “Yeah, last summer I was looking for a new place.”

They arrived at the admit desk where Kerry was busy charting.

“Really?” Anna said hopefully. “Where’d you end up moving?”

Susan leaned forward on the desk and sighed, casting Anna an apologetic look.

“Dr. Weaver’s basement.”

Anna looked between Susan and Kerry, waiting for one of them to laugh. Instead, Kerry just glanced up from the chart she was writing on and, sensing Anna’s confusion, just said, “it’s a long story”.

Before Anna could ask any follow-up questions about this “long story”, Doug opened the door to the men’s bathroom behind them.

“Hey! Hey, you guys?” he called out. 

Kerry started forward before Susan and Anna had the chance to turn and look. And the moment they did, Susan’s heart stopped.

Mark lay on the floor, his face badly bruised, seemingly passed out in a pool of his own blood.

“Stabilize his neck,” Doug ordered.

Susan didn’t move, her brain filled with static. Luckily, Anna quickly knelt down to provide in-line stabilization while Kerry went to get a C-collar.

“Good breath sounds,” Doug stated, putting his stethoscope back around his neck.

“Good pulse,” Anna stated. “Is he an ER doc?”

“Yes,” Susan said, though it came out more like a croak. “An attending.”

Kerry returned with the collar, Lydia following her with the backboard. Though her brain was still moving so fast it felt like it wasn’t moving at all, Susan’s instincts kicked in and she started helping the others roll him onto the board.

“Let’s get him monitored right away,” Kerry instructed. “Cross-table C-spine, chest, CBC, type and hold, dip a urine.”

“On my count, we’re going to lift it,” Doug said. Everyone, including Susan, grabbed a hold of one of the grips. “One… Two… Three. Go.”

There was a simultaneous movement as everyone started lifting. A gurney was waiting nearby. They set the backboard on top and started down the hall for the trauma room.

Once there, everyone sprang into action. Doug started listening to Mark’s chest. The nurses started listing vital signs. When Mark vomited, they rolled him. 

Everyone was working… except for Susan. She just couldn’t get her legs to move. She knew what to do, she’d been doing it for  _ years _ for God’s sake, but the fact that it was Mark seemed to paralyze her.

Kerry glanced up to see Susan across from her, but a good foot-and-a-half from the table.

“Susan? You alright?”

“What? Y-yeah. Yes.”

It was enough to bring Susan back to the present.  

She stepped forward, taking a place on the other side of Doug. Anna called for an oxygen mask as Susan pulled out her pen light and started checking Mark’s pupils.

“Pupils are round and sluggish,” she said in the loudest, clearest voice she could manage. “React to light. Possible hyphema.”

The others called for more tests and stated more facts. More people burst into the trauma room and reacted to the sight of one of their friends and colleagues on the trauma table.

But Susan was just a machine. She didn’t state her treatment or intentions, but rather just did them. 

She put a cloth to Mark’s head to control the bleeding. She cleaned some of the wounds. She passed the others supplies or equipment when they asked for it. But she said nothing.

Radiology came to take x-rays, but as soon as they were done, the team readied to take him upstairs to CT. 

Susan helped them wheel the gurney to the elevator, her insides churning uncomfortably as she remembered her, Kerry, and Mark standing in this exact spot three hours ago, talking about treatment for strokes. 

It seemed so distant now.

When the elevator doors shut, Susan just stood there for a minute. Kerry might have been there, trying to say something to her, but she didn’t know. She just turned and started walking.

Susan walked past the trauma room. Past Doyle and Chuny and Carol and God knows who else, all trying to get her attention and ask her what happened. She walked until she reached the ambulance bay doors. 

She stepped outside into the night, her lungs filling with cool spring air like she had never breathed before. 

For a moment she just stood there, her chest heaving like she was going to cry. But before any sobs made their way out, Susan’s mind flashed with the picture of Mark, bruised and bloody, lying their unconscious on the floor. And before she even had time to think, she was lunging for the nearby trash can. 

When she finally straightened up, Susan felt exhausted. Like losing her lunch into the garbage can had drained her of every ounce of energy she had. 

But she couldn’t stop yet.

As much as she wanted to leave, to just walk away from this stupid fucking hospital where her friends get beaten half to death in the bathroom, she had to know. She had to  _ know _ if he was okay.

And so her legs carried her back to trauma room, slowly, and with a tremendous amount of effort.  

Kerry and Doug were examining the CT scans on the wall. Susan thought about trying to read them herself, but her eyes were blurry. From stress, exhaustion, or tears, she didn’t know nor care. 

“His CT is negative,” Susan heard Kerry say to Doug. “He’s really lucky.”

They both turned and that’s when Kerry saw Susan standing in the back of the crowd that had formed around the open trauma room doors. 

“Will you excuse me a moment?” she said quietly to Doug before turning and making her way out into the hall. 

Kerry drew even with Susan and then gently guided her a bit farther away from the crowd so they could speak privately. 

“Are you okay?” Kerry asked in a low voice full of concern. 

Susan didn’t answer, but given the look in her eyes, Kerry didn’t need her to. 

Kerry laid her free hand on Susan’s arm and rubbed it reassuringly. 

“Is he going to be okay?”

Kerry leaned forward, turning her head slightly to catch the question. 

“What?”

“Is he going to be okay?” Susan repeated, a little louder, her chest heaving again. 

“Yes. Yes, he’s going to be okay,” Kerry assured her, nodding sincerely. “His CT is negative. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be in pain, but he’s going to be okay.”

Susan covered her mouth with her hand as sobs racked her body. Kerry pulled her into a deep hug, Susan’s tears dampening her lab coat. 

For a moment, they just stood there, Kerry rubbing Susan’s back as she cried. Finally, Susan straightened up, her face wet and her eyes red and puffy.

“How could this happen?” she asked, shaking her head. “How could this happen  _ here _ ?”

“I don’t know,” Kerry said. 

She had clearly been asking herself the same question as her voice was full of both emotion and defeat.

“Dr. Weaver?”

Kerry turned to see Chuny. 

“What is it?”

“Can you come look at this patient?”

“In a second,” she said, turning back to Susan.

“It’s the stroke patient,” Chuny pressed. “He’s waking up.”

Kerry sighed. 

“I’ll be right there.”

Kerry looked up at Susan. 

“I’m going to go check on this patient, okay?” she said in a low, comforting voice. “I’ll be right back. Do you want to go sit in the lounge or-”

“No,” Susan said flatly. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

“Okay.” 

Kerry nodded and squeezed Susan’s arm before turning towards the trauma rooms. She started towards the room with the stroke patient and the stroke team that should include the attending physician currently lying on the trauma table next door.

“Kerry?”

Kerry turned back to Susan, her brow rising at the question.

“Promise me,” Susan said, her voice cracking. “Promise me he’s going to be okay.”

“I promise. I promise you, he will be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have to say, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Though it's long and poor Mark has to go through a lot, I've been excited about it for a while. Partly because I was imagining Susan taking part in the whole "Carol's book" shenanigans, becuase I think she'd have a lot of fun with it, and partly because I was imagining her reacting to Mark's beating. And her reaction, to me, looked a lot like someone  _else's_ reaction to a terrible tragedy in the ER. I hope you can tell whose. 
> 
> This is it for season three! I am very excited for what's in store for the next chapter. It might take a while, what with moving and school and other very ENGAGE-ing stuff (as of last Saturday :D), but also because the way I plan to do it might take me a little extra time. I think it'll be worth it though...
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and sticking with it! I appreciate your comments and kudos and look forward to seeing where this goes.
> 
> Thanks a bunch. Until next time!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a word of warning: the following chapter is stylized  _very_ differently than any previous or following chapter. I apologize in advance if it is difficult to follow at all, but the stylization made sense in the context of the chapter. 
> 
> Also, (O.S.) means "off-screen" and a beat is a pause or change in inflection or tone.
> 
> See you at the end!

* * *

  _FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION_

_1998 Chicago Short Film and Documentary Festival_

Best Documentary

 

**“modERn medicine: trauma and triumph in today’s emergency department”**

Dir. Aggie and Stuart Orton  

Copyright 1997. All Rights Reserved.

 

 _modERn medicine_ follows a day in the life of Dr. Mark Greene, an attending physician in the emergency department of Cook County General Hospital, a Level 1 Trauma Center in the heart of Chicago. Offering a behind-the-scenes look at a busy urban ER, this unique documentary seeks to answer a pressing question for ER staff: what do you do when the trauma happens to you?

* * *

  _No part of this documentary was scripted. The following excerpts were transcribed post-production for your viewing convenience._

* * *

  **[SCENE III]**

INT. EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT

ADMIT DESK

 _A blonde, white, female physician_ SUSAN LEWIS _is charting at the desk. The camera moves closer. The physician glances up at the camera and then back down to her chart. When the camera does not move, she sets down her pen and leans forward on her elbows, looking directly at the camera._

SUSAN

Is that on?

LUIS (O.S.)

Yep. We’re rolling.

SUSAN

_(Looks back down at her chart)_

Well, I wouldn’t recommend following me around with it.

LUIS (O.S.)

Why not?

SUSAN

Because. I’m extremely liable to make faces at the camera. And if the pictures I have of me when I was eight are any indication, if I’m not already in the shot, I will _find_ my way into the shot. The last thing you want is for me to pop up in the background of some gruesome trauma, stick my tongue out, and ruin everything.

LUIS (O.S.)

( _chuckles)_

Well, it would be a shame if that happened.

SUSAN

Yeah, I bet.

LUIS (O.S.)

Especially since you’ve got such a pretty face. I’d hate for them to have to cut out stuff with you in it.

_Susan scoffs and rolls her eyes._

SUSAN

Oh, _come on_ , man. You were doing so well. Why’d you have to go and ruin it like that?

LUIS (O.S.)

I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

 _Another physician, a white woman with short red hair and a crutch,_ KERRY WEAVER, _approaches the desk._

KERRY

Something wrong?

SUSAN

Camera guy number one just hit on me.

LUIS (O.S.)

I said I’m sorry.

KERRY

_(sternly; to camera)_

Look, we invited you to learn what we do, not to hit on our staff. If it happens again, I will kick your ass.

SUSAN

_(nodding sincerely)_

It’s true. I’ve seen her do it.

LUIS (O.S.)

I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again. 

_(beat; nervously)_

Can I ask you other questions Doc- Doctor Lewis?

 _Kerry and Susan exchange sideways glances_. _Susan_ _turns back to the camera_.

SUSAN

Yes. But hit on me again and I’ll let her at you.

_The camera moves up and down as the cameraman nods._

LUIS (O.S.)

When did you start working in the ER?

SUSAN

Working here? Well… I just finished my fourth year and am starting my fifth.

_(buries her face in her hands)_

_God,_ I feel old.

 _Kerry smiles at Susan and then looks at the camera._ _She lays a hand proudly on Susan’s shoulder._

KERRY

Dr. Lewis was just promoted a couple weeks ago. She was previously the Chief Resident, but was just promoted to Attending Physician.

LUIS (O.S.)

Dr. Lewis, can you describe the difference between your previous position and your current position?

 _Susan_ _lifts her head from her hands and straightens up. She pauses for a moment, considering._

SUSAN

Not a whole lot, but, to me, the most important parts are that I make a whole lot more money and no longer have the word ‘resident’ in my title.

KERRY

She’s kidding.

SUSAN

Um… not really.

_(beat)_

So, a Chief Resident oversees the residents and interns, which are first-year residents. An attending oversees just about anyone. But seeing as we have not yet hired a new Chief Resident, I’m still overseeing all the residents and interns.

LUIS (O.S.)

Is it hard to hire a Chief Resident?

_Susan shrugs and looks to Kerry to answer._

KERRY

It depends on the year. In Susan’s case, it was a very clear choice. She stood out amongst her peers, so it made the most sense to choose her.

SUSAN

And if there _isn’t_ a clear choice, then you hire from outside, which is how we got her.

 _Susan_ _jerks her head and a thumb towards_ _Kerry_.

LUIS (O.S.)

So, Dr. Weaver, is it? You didn’t do your residency here?

KERRY

_(shaking her head)_

No. I did my residency at Mt. Sinai Hospital. Then Dr. Greene hired me as Chief Resident two years ago, now. 

LUIS (O.S.)

Do you like County?

KERRY 

_(chuckling)_

Yes. I like County very much. I’m still here, aren’t I?

SUSAN

_(stage whispering to the camera)_

We can’t get rid of her.

_(beat)_

Not that we’d want to. Seriously. This place would fall apart if she left.

KERRY

No, it wouldn’t.

SUSAN

Yeah, it _would_. 98% of all ER disasters happen on your days off.

 _Kerry’s chuckling slows and her expression changes to one of thoughtfulness_.

KERRY

Huh. I never noticed that.

LUIS (O.S.)

When you say ‘ER disasters’, you mean like the attack on Mark Greene?

 _Susan’s_ _face immediately hardens. She and_ _Kerry frown._

SUSAN

What?

LUIS (O.S.)

ER disasters. Like the day that Mark Greene was attacked? Is that what you meant?

SUSAN

_(coldly)_

No. It’s not what I meant. And I don’t want to talk about that. 

_Susan picks up a chart off the counter angrily and turns to leave the shot. The camera follows her. She gets a couple steps outside of the admit desk before she turns back and raises a warning finger to the camera._

SUSAN

And don’t you _dare_ go asking Mark about that either.

**[END SCENE III]**

 

**[SCENE IX]**

INT. EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT HALLWAY

_The camera follows film director Aggie Orton through the hall of the emergency department towards the front desk._

AGGIE

The nurses are cooking. They’re mic’d to channel three.

 _Aggie and the camera turn a corner to see several nurses gathered around the front desk._ CONNIE OLIGARIO, _a black nurse with short twisted locks, sits on the desk._ CHUNY MARQUEZ _, a Latina nurse wearing a floral scrub tub, sits opposite her. Standing on the other side of the desk is a white, curly-haired nurse_ , CAROL HATHAWAY.

CHUNY

_(chuckling as she recounts the story)_

The best one was the guy with the transistor radio. Remember?

CONNIE

Right. He said he was getting out of the shower and he slipped and sat down on it.

CHUNY

Ouch.

CAROL

_(confused)_

While it was still playing?

 _A black, male nurse,_ MALIK MCGRATH, _appears at Carol’s shoulder._

MALIK

_(laughing)_

Whoop, there it is

_Malik exits the shot._

CHUNY

So, I asked Mark… _Dr. Greene_ , if he was going to extract the foreign body. And he said “no, but I’ll tune it to the ball game.”

 _The nurses make faces of disgust. A short Asian nurse,_ LILY JARVIK, _appears at Carol’s shoulder._

LILY

_(concerned)_

I’ve got a head lac for Carter. Has anyone seen him?

_The other nurses shake their heads at Lily’s question. Lily exits the shot._

AGGIE (O.S.)

It seems there’s a real camaraderie between doctors and nurses. What about dating?

CHUNY

Who? Mark?

 _Chuny adjusts her microphone_.

AGGIE (O.S.)

You tell me.

CHUNY

_(a bit flustered; still adjusting the microphone)_

Oh. I’m sorry. Uh…

AGGIE (O.S.)

Let me get that. I got that.

_Aggie’s head is in seen in the shot as she steps forward to help Chuny. Camera pans left and zooms in on Carol._

CAROL

Actually, we do socialize, but more as a group.

CONNIE (O.S.)

Mm-hmm. But when it comes to dating Mark Greene, I’m pretty sure the only one who’s done that is Susan.

_Camera pans back out to a wide shot of the nurses._

AGGIE (O.S)

Susan Lewis? The other doctor?

CHUNY

Yeah, that’s her. 

CAROL

We never confirmed that though.

AGGIE (O.S.)

You just had a feeling that they were together?

CAROL

Well… Mark and Susan have always been very close and we thought, for a while at least, that there might have been something going on between them.

CHUNY

Until last summer.

AGGIE (O.S.)

What happened last summer?

CAROL

Susan adopted her niece last… April? May? And then she went on leave for three months to take care of her daughter. And while she was gone, Mark was… different.

AGGIE (O.S.)

Different how?

_The nurses look at each other. They shrug._

CHUNY

Shorter temper. A little bit, I don’t... lost? Like he wasn’t quite himself.

CONNIE

And Susan was only gone for three months. Hate to think how he would have been if she’d left for good.

AGGIE (O.S.)

Did his behavior change when she returned after the leave of absence?

_All the nurses nod._

CAROL

They were fine for a few days, but something happened that first week. Some kind of disagreement or something. They didn’t talk to each other for weeks.

_(beat)_

I mean, they _talked_ to each other. But it wasn’t the same. Before she left, they were practically inseparable. But whatever happened changed that.

_(Beat)_

They eventually went back to normal, and are still really good friends and all, but it’s not the same as it used to be.

AGGIE (O.S.)

Do you think it could have been romantic in nature? Whatever happened between them when she returned?

CHUNY

_(shrugging)_

Maybe. But if it was romantic, it was a rejection. Because two people in love definitely don’t treat each other like that.

**[END SCENE IX]**

 

**[SCENE XV]**

EXT. ADMIT DESK

_The admit desk of the ER is bustling with people. There are numerous nurses in pink scrubs and physicians in white coats working at the desk in the background, including staff we have already met such as Anna Del Amico, Lily Jarvik, and Susan Lewis._

_In the foreground, Mark Greene is sitting on the admit desk, charting. He is half-turned to the camera._

MARK

Most of the ones I can remember are from my first year. After a while, you get protective and you don’t let them get to you.

AGGIE (O.S.)

So, what does it take these days to break through your armor?

_In the background, Susan stops writing on the chart in front of her and is watching the conversation. She is focused on Mark._

MARK

It doesn’t happen.

_(beat)_

But there was this one girl my first year. I guess I’d gotten used to this being a County facility. I’d treated a lot of homeless people, a lot of people from the projects. One day, this girl came in, traffic accident In a coma, brain dead… and I realized I knew her. She was the kid sister of a guy I’d gone to med school with. One night, she’d tried to show me how to slam dance. You know, just fooling around.

_(beat)_

That’s when I realized that trauma isn’t something that happens to other people. 

AGGIE (O.S.)

It could happen to you.

MARK 

That’s right.

AGGIE (O.S.)

Does it change things when it is you?

MARK 

What do you mean?

AGGIE (O.S.)

When you yourself are traumatized. As a doctor.

_(beat)_

I see you have a splint on your wrist. I heard that you had an incident recently here at the hospital.

MARK

_(angrily)_

Is that what you’re doing here?

_The following is overlapping dialogue:_

AGGIE (O.S.)

I’m sorry I didn’t know I hit a sore spot.

But safety is something everybody worries about.

MARK

I didn’t agree to talk about that.

Is that why you picked me? To get into to all that?

_End overlapping dialogue._

_Mark crosses to the whiteboard within the admit desk area. Aggie steps into the shot, opposite Mark._

AGGIE

Dr. Greene, we’re not here to make you uncomfortable.

_Mark crosses and begins towards the ER hallway. The camera is following his departure._

LUIS (O.S.)

You don’t have to talk about something if you don’t want to.

MARK

Good, because I’m not. 

AGGIE (O.S.)

But we are here and we are committed to making this film. 

LUIS (O.S.)

And we want you to have an opportunity to say what’s on your mind.

MARK 

Well, I have nothing to say. I agreed to let you follow me around. You can do that, but no more comments, no interview.

AGGIE (O.S.)

_(crossing into the shot)_

Dr. Greene, we are professionals.We’re not here to attack you.

LUIS (O.S.)

Aggie?

_Aggie turns back to the camera._

AGGIE

Damn.

_The camera pans to a patient in a tie-dye shirt tapping out a rhythm on the pay phone with drumsticks._

_In the background, Susan Lewis enters the shot. She pauses, casting a furious look at the camera, before she crosses out of the shot to follow Mark Greene._

**[END SCENE XV]**

 

**[SCENE XIX]**

INT. LOUNGE

_The stationary camera is focused on the lounge. Doug Ross sits just out of the shot. Only his feet, propped up on a coffee table, are visible. Susan Lewis is seated at the table in the center of the lounge. Mark Greene is opening the fridge on the right-hand side of the shot._

DOUG (O.S.)

So, how’d they find out?

MARK

I don’t know. Police reports, gossip. It doesn’t matter.

SUSAN

It _does_ matter. They told us… they told _you_ that they were here to learn about what you do. And only once they’re here do they bring up that stuff. 

_(beat; anger rising in her voice)_

Anna was right. This _is_ an ambush. They’re ambushing you.

DOUG (O.S.)

_(chuckling)_

Susan, you sound like you’re ready to deck one of ‘em

SUSAN

_(slightly defensive)_

Yeah? Maybe I am. What of it? If they come in here and try to expose private stuff that’s none of their business. I’ve told ‘em off once already. If that’s what they get, then that’s what they get.

MARK

_(chuckling)_

I appreciate the support, Susan, but, as I said, it doesn’t matter. I’m not talking about it.

DOUG (O.S.)

That’s a good policy, man.

_Mark turns and takes a seat at the table next to Susan. The door in the lower right-hand corner opens and Carol Hathaway enters. She crosses up and behind Mark at the table._

CAROL

What’s the score?

DOUG (O.S.)

_(to Carol)_

It’s 8-1. Cubs behind, bottom of the seventh.

_(to Mark and Susan)_

Listen, Mark… and you too, Susan, what you can’t do is you can’t get mad at them on camera. ‘Cause they go for that stuff like sharks.

MARK

They’re not sharks. They just want to make a tearjerkers with me as the poor, pathetic, victimized doctor.

_Doug gets up and crosses to the coffee machine next to the fridge._

DOUG

I don’t know. That’s not what I mean. I was watching that director. She was looking at you.

SUSAN

Aggie?

DOUG

Yeah. She was watching. She’s trying to get personal and stuff.

_(crosses down into the foreground of the shot)_

You go for that, too, the intense, kind of brainy type.

MARK

Doug, she’s married to the guy behind the camera.

DOUG

The old guy?

MARK

Yeah, they’re a pair.

_Mark gets up from the table and crosses down into the foreground. Susan gets up too and crosses to the coffee machine._

DOUG

May-Decembers never hold up.

_Carol crosses down into the center of the shot. Susan turns and leans against the counter._

CAROL

Are you guys talking about the filmmakers?

DOUG

Yep.

MARK

We don’t trust them.

SUSAN

At all.

DOUG

Yeah, they’re bloodsuckers.

CAROL

You think you should be doing that in front of their cameras?

_Doug, Mark, and Susan all immediately straighten up and turn to look at the stationary camera._

MARK

_(hesitantly)_

Is that on?

SUSAN

_(exasperated)_

Oh my ******* God.

_The door is quickly pushed open by Kerry Weaver in a yellow trauma gown._

KERRY

Mark, Doug, we’ve got a double trauma. Come on.

_Mark reaches up and pushes the stationary camera sideways._

**[END SCENE XIX]**

 

**[SCENE XXIV]**

EXT. EXAM ROOM FOUR

_Through the blinds on the door, we can see Kerry Weaver and Susan Lewis. Kerry is closer to the door. Her back is turned to the camera as she is facing Susan. Susan’s arms are crossed and she looks frustrated._

_Their voices can be heard as the door to Exam Room Four is slightly ajar._

KERRY

_(incredulously)_

They are not going to ask that! It would be terribly unprofessional of them if they did.

SUSAN

_(sarcastically)_

Yeah. And everything else they’ve done so far today has been so incredibly professional.

_(beat)_

I’m just asking that if they _do_ ask, _please_ hit them with it. Hard. And on-camera. That would be the only thing that would make today worthwhile.

KERRY

They are not going to ask and even if they did, I wouldn’t do that.

SUSAN

_(rolling her eyes)_

Then what’s the point?

_Susan shakes her head and turns slightly. She notices the camera through the door and straightens up. Kerry turns to see what she is looking at. There is a brief pause before Kerry opens the door. The camera moves forward into the room._

KERRY

I’m sorry. Dr. Lewis and I were just discussing our Good Samaritan’s x-ray. If you’ll see here...

_Kerry points towards something behind the camera. The camera pans around as Kerry and the camera switch places._

_The camera pans up and focuses on an x-ray of a neck. Kerry points to a vertebra on the x-ray._

KERRY

See this? At the moment, the gentleman’s C-4 nerve- that’s the nerve between the fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae- is still functioning. Meaning he can move his diaphragm-

SUSAN (O.S.)

Shrug his shoulders.

KERRY

_(nodding)_

Yes. But if the swelling continues, he becomes a C-3, which means he will lose the ability to breathe on his own. 

_(beat)_

So. How’s the shooting going so far? Are you getting everything you need?

LUIS (O.S.)

Yeah. I think so. It’s been good.

KERRY

_(smiling)_

Good.

_Kerry begins crossing out of the shot camera right. The camera is still for a moment before zooming in towards a patient in the hall as Kerry speaks off-screen._

KERRY (CONT.) (O.S.)

Yeah, one of the things I noticed that you might be missing is the importance of women-

SUSAN (O.S.)

Kerry, he’s not listening to you.

_Kerry clears her throat loudly. The camera quickly pans around. Kerry is now by the hospital bed. Susan is in front of the curtain just to Kerry’s right, her arms still crossed._

KERRY

Women working in the ER. That’s changed dramatically over the last few years. 

_Kerry begins to cross the room. The camera pans down towards her feet. She is walking unassisted by her crutch. Her gait is slow and careful._

_A hand appears in front of the camera lens and snaps twice. The camera pans up to show Susan Lewis looking at the camera angrily. She mouths the words “What the hell are you doing? Look at her!” and points towards Kerry, who is oblivious to this. She picks up her crutch and slips her arms inside the brace._

KERRY (CONT.) 

All kinds of diversity among medical workers. It’s crucial to the understanding of how emergency medicine has evolved.

LUIS (O.S.)

Yeah. I’ll mention that to Aggie and Stuart.

_(beat)_

Um, what was that you were pointing to?

_Kerry begins to step forward towards the light box, but Susan beats her to it. Susan points out the fracture in the vertebra._

SUSAN

She was pointing to this, a fracture of the fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae.

LUIS (O.S.)

And what does that mean?

SUSAN

It means that that man, Mr. Williams, who saved a kid he’d never even met from getting beaten to death, is now paralyzed from the neck down.

_Susan glances up at the lightbox for a moment and then shakes her head._

KERRY (O.S.)

_(happily)_

David!

MORGENSTERN (O.S.)

_(quietly)_

May I interrupt?

_The following dialogue overlaps:_

KERRY (O.S.)

Come in. Come in.

MORGENSTERN (O.S.)

No, I’d rather talk out- _  
_

_End overlapping dialogue._

_The camera pans around._ _Kerry is standing next to David Morgenstern. Morgenstern has one hand on his chest. Susan steps forward into the edge of the shot._

KERRY (CONT.)

_(proudly)_

This is, uh, David Morgenstern, our too-modest Chief of Emergency Services.

_(steps forward; turning away from camera)_

 If you heard about our little altercation, it’s all settled. The police subdued the perp-

MORGENSTERN

_(confused)_

Police?

SUSAN (O.S.)

_(seriously)_

Ker, something’s wrong. He’s diaphoretic.

_Kerry turns back around._

_The camera pans out and around. It zooms in on Morgenstern’s face, which is pale and sweaty. Susan is to his right, one hand on his shoulder. She is looking at him with concern._

KERRY (O.S.)

David, what is it?

MORGENSTERN

_(with difficulty)_

Chest pain.

SUSAN

Radiating?

MORGENSTERN

To the jaw. 

_(grimaces)_

Started twenty minutes ago.

KERRY (O.S.)

Oh my God. Lie down. 

_Kerry directs Morgenstern to the bed. The camera follows them._

KERRY (CONT.)

Let’s get you on a monitor. Here you go. Gently.

SUSAN (O.S.)

I’m going to go get Lydia and some atropine and nitro. 12-lead too. Get him on a mask.

_Kerry turns to the camera._

KERRY

Out. You get out.

_The camera begins to back up as Kerry shoos it away. Susan steps in front of the camera as it is backing out the door into the hallway._

SUSAN

You heard her. Get out. Now! Move!

_The camera is jostled as Susan shoves by the cameraman. She is in the shot for a moment before crossing out of it._

_The camera refocuses on Kerry and Morgenstern through the open blinds of the room. Nurse Lydia Wright rushes in through the open door._

KERRY

There you go, David. We’re going to take good care of you.

_Kerry turns to see the camera through the open blinds. She quickly moves towards the door and the blinds snap shut._

**[END SCENE XXVI]**

 

**[SCENE XXXII]**

INT. EXAM ROOM FOUR

 _New surgeon_ ELIZABETH CORDAY _is being interviewed by director Aggie Orton. Elizabeth is a white woman with very curly blonde hair. As she has only started at County General within the last hour, she is dressed in a pink blouse and skirt instead of scrubs or a white lab coat._

AGGIE (O.S.)

So, when did you decide to become a surgeon?

ELIZABETH

_(sighs)_

Oh, well, that gets into pleasing my father, rattling my mother, and all sorts of boring family secrets. But the short answer is that my father is a surgeon, as was _his_ father, and my father has no sons.

AGGIE (O.S.)

Are you a resident in the U.K.?

_Elizabeth pauses for a moment, considering._

ELIZABETH

Well, it’s a different system all together.

_(beat)_

Um, I’m an FRCS, which is a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons and a lecturer. That’s roughly the equivalent of your senior surgical residents, but not _really_ because I have six..

_(beat; sighs)_

You can’t possibly be interested in this.

_Elizabeth begins looking around. She spots fellow surgeon Peter Benton in the hallway. She looks back and forth between the camera and Peter several times before turning and walking into the hallway to meet him. She grabs him by the arm._

ELIZABETH (CONT.)

Dr. Benton? Please rescue me from these well-intentioned people.

AGGIE (O.S.)

We’re just talking about the surgical service.

PETER

No, thank you.

_(to Elizabeth)_

Listen, have you seen that young lady I was talking to earlier?

ELIZABETH

The sister of the boy up in surgery?

PETER

Yeah, I’ve got some news and I can’t find her. 

ELIZABETH

Well, I’ll keep my eyes open.

PETER

Alright. Thank you.

_Peter exits the shot. Elizabeth looks after him. She puts her hands on her hips and sighs deeply, looking concerned._

**[END SCENE XXXII]**

 

**[SCENE XXXVII]**

CONTINUOUS

INT. SUTURE ROOM

_Mark Greene takes a seat on a stool in front of a closed door. He is visibly irked, but has agreed to do the interview._

_He sighs and puts his hands on his knees._

MARK

Probably the best part of my job is that sometimes, working here, you can repair some of the violence. Some of the bad things that happen to people. Not always. We couldn’t do much for that guy who was paralyzed. Probably on a vent for the rest of his life. 

_(beat)_

I guess we did save the kid he was trying to help. So, his sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. 

_(long beat)_

And yes. I was attacked myself. Right here in this hospital. They haven’t been able to catch the guy who did it, or at least they haven’t been able to charge anyone.

_(long beat)_

The worst thing about it isn’t what it did to me. The worst thing is that it meant that some of the world’s violence has leaked into our own ER. 

_(angrily)_

This is meant to be a _safe_ place of fixing people. Now it’s vulnerable. And as an ER doctor, that’s hard to accept.

AGGIE (O.S.)

Sounds frightening.

_(beat)_

Are you scared?

_Mark looks down at his hands as the camera zooms in slightly._

MARK 

Sure.

_(looks up into camera)_

Of, uh, losing control.

AGGIE (O.S.)

Control of what’s outside?

MARK

_(beat)_

And what’s in me.

(beat)

Is that enough?

AGGIE (O.S.)

_(quietly)_

Yes.

MARK

_(raises finger at camera; harshly)_

Then turn it off.

**[END SCENE XXVII]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'll be honest. If this was  _actually_ a script with excerpts from the documentary in _Ambush_ , it would have focused on the more exciting trauma parts. But as much fun as it would be to transcribe  _every single scene_  in the episode all for the sake of a fanfiction (read: not really that fun at all),  I decided to focus on the scenes with the most of Susan's presence. And, as you can see, in most of which, she is a little bit (okay, I  _lotta_ bit) overprotective of some of her people. I also threw in the one short scene with Lizzie because, well, it's Lizzie. 
> 
> Fun fact: This was the very first episode I ever watched of  _ER_ and it was specifically because it was the episode in which Alex Kingston joined the cast. As I say, for me, watching  _ER_  was both predictable and selfish. Predictable because I spent the end of 2018 binge-watching  _Doctor Who_ for the first time in five years and wanted to try a new show that featured a lot of Alex Kingston and selfish because Alex Kingston pretty.
> 
> As I said, this is the first and last chapter to be written as a mock-script. It was _a lot_ of work to format, especially for AO3. But I had to do it becauseit didn't feel right to write a chapter featuring this episode in any other way. And, in case you were wondering, no, the scene numbers don't align with the actual script and I might have some of the locations wrong. If that upsets you, I'm sorry, but consider it part of my creative license.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, thank you so much for reading. Until next time.


	18. Chapter 18

“... And Ansapaugh wants me to go to this Synergix presentation. They’re supposed to be able to help cut costs and he wanted the budget balanced  _ yesterday _ .”

“Sounds tough.”

“I’m supposed to cut $98,000 out of the budget as soon as I can.” Kerry shook her head and heaved a sigh. “I just don’t know who or how.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Susan replied in a flat tone unnoticed by Kerry.

She knew she should probably be more supportive in Kerry’s struggle, but for the love of all that was good in this world, if she had to listen to another second of ER administration talk, she very well might explode.

Susan had done well to keep her mouth shut over the last several weeks, but it was getting harder and harder. 

Any progress Kerry had made this year towards improving her interactions with staff that had disappeared almost overnight the moment Morgenstern relinquished his Chief of Emergency Services duties to her. Coupled with Anspaugh’s praise of her leadership two weeks later, Kerry had practically turned back into her old self. 

The kind of old self that, for almost the entire first year working together, Susan had daydreamed about strangling with IV tubing.

“Anyways,” Kerry said, pausing to check her watch. “I should get headed over. I’ll fill you in when I get back.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Susan watched Kerry walk away and silently reminded herself that she loved this woman and that murdering her in cold blood would put a damper on their relationship. 

“Dr. Lewis,” a male voice came from behind her. “Just the woman I wanted to see. In the hospital or otherwise.” 

Susan groaned internally as Robert Romano sidled up next to her in blue surgical scrubs. 

Now,  _ here  _ was someone she could murder in cold blood and get away with. Though, it would probably mean that County would lose that great new British surgeon and having Elizabeth Corday was  _ just  _ enough of a benefit that it ou killing Romano.

Then again, Elizabeth could just get a new sponsoring surgeon…

Susan frowned at herself.  _ God _ , she was feeling homicidal today. She needed to watch herself. 

Keeping this in mind, she followed Romano into one of the exam rooms and subjected herself to his surgical expertise and the unwanted double entendre that came with it.

At least, she thought, she probably wouldn’t lose her license over killing a colleague. And, depending on the patient, they might even help.

 

The presenter clicked the mouse and progressed the slide. The screen returned to the first slide- a blue background adorned with the Synergix title. 

“So, I think the facts speak for themselves,” the presenter concluded. “When you partner with Synergix Physicians Group, we will increase revenues, streamline management, and cut costs, making your department a ‘Center of Excellence’.”

The presenter stood up and flashed the crowd of ER administrators what Kerry deemed his most “winning”  smile.

“Now, I’m sure that some of you have questions, so…” He nodded at a raised hand. “Yes, sir?”

“Eric Norris, director of the St. Joseph’s ER-”

“Oh, yes,” the presenter said, nodding, “and the principal author of ‘Thrombolytics and Pulmonary Embolism’ in the September  _ Annals _ .” 

Kerry could see Norris, a black man in the row behind her, smile.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “What are your billing charges?”

“Ah. Now,  _ that _ is the beauty of the SPG system. Collective billing of our 125 contracted facilities enables us to keep our billing costs down below five percent.”

There was a murmur from the crowd and the sound of several pens scratching the note. But not Kerry’s. 

Instead, she frowned and raised her hand. The presenter nodded in her direction.

“Yes. I have a few questions. The first of which-”

“I’m sorry. And you are?”

“Uh, Kerry Weaver, Acting Chief of Emergency Services at County General. Five percent  _ is _ an impressive number, but what is the  _ actual _ percentage that Synergix retains in management fees?”

“Well, we retain the current physicians’ salaries and we balance your budget through maximizing reimbursement and cutting costs,” he explained. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Pentagon and the ‘$5,000 hammer’, Dr. Weaver?”

Maximizing reimbursements? Kerry thought. She knew what that meant: unnecessary tests. Get the most out of people with insurance to offset the costs of the uninsured and those with Medicaid.

“Yeah, I’m not talking about hammers, and, um, you haven’t answered my question, Mr. West.”

West was clearly caught off guard by the callout, but he took it in his stride. He paused only briefly, the ghost of a smirk creeping onto his face.

“Well, it’s  _ Dr. West _ ...” he corrected. “But please... call me Ellis.”

Kerry fought back the urge to roll her eyes as his tone took on a flirtatious edge. 

“The number you’re looking for,” West continued, “depends on a number of factors.... Payer mix, daily census, physician reimbursement- just to name a few. But we should talk about this later.”

West looked  _ this _ close to winking at her, and Kerry was fairly certain that if he had, she might have gagged. 

When the others had finished their questions, she put on her coat and joined the rest of the retreating crowd. But it didn’t take long for West to catch up with her.

“Listen,” he said as he appeared at her elbow, “we didn’t get to finish our discussion-”

“Yeah, I think I heard everything I needed to hear, thank you,” Kerry said, cutting him off.

“Oh, but  _ I _ haven’t,” he replied with a chuckle. “Listen, Kerry, I’m surrounded by number crunchers all day long. When a confident, intelligent, and attractive woman walks through my door, I at least have to try and ask her to lunch.”

It was then that Kerry realized the raised eyebrow she had  _ intended _ as a rebuke to him earlier, had been taken as an invitation.

Not interested in that happening again, Kerry stiffened. His jovial demeanor disappeared at once.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to- to offend you or anything. I meant it as a compliment. Truly.”

“I’m sure you did,” she acknowledged, “but considering that we’re in a professional space, it is uncalled for. Not that it would be called for in any other setting, but  _ especially  _ not here.”

She started to turn in the direction of the door, but his hand touched her arm. 

Now, given that it was her crutch arm, she would have instinctively jerked it away from  _ anybody.  _ She’d even pull away from Susan if she didn’t know it was her.

But to Ellis West, the reaction came off as an over-exaggerated movement of rejection. 

“Look, Dr. Weaver,” he said, dropping his voice, “I’m really sorry. It was a stupid mistake.  _ Please _ . Let me take you to lunch. I’ll give you all of my dirty management secrets.”

“I appreciate the apology and the offer,” Kerry responded coldly, “but no thank you.”

West let out a sigh.

“You wouldn’t have come here if you weren’t facing budget problems,” West said seriously. “I can help you. Just… just come have lunch with me and you’ll walk away with all the information you need to fix your ER’s administration troubles. I promise.”

She’d heard enough during the seminar to know that Dr. Ellis West knew his stuff. She had little doubt that he could probably solve County’s ER problems on his own or through Synergix. 

Perhaps if he hadn’t just tried to hit on her, she might even accept his offer. God knew she could use some free administrative advice right now. But God also knew how arrogant the man in front of her was.

And, perhaps just for Her own enjoyment, God had just happened to place this incredibly arrogant man in front of one of the most stubborn and self-assured women on the face of the planet.

“Actually,” she said, “I already have a plan on how to fix my ER’s budget problems. In fact, I only came here so I could report back to my Chief of Staff and let him know that we’re going with my plan.”

West knew Kerry was lying, but he had to admire her nerve.

“Well, I’m certainly all ears.”

Kerry let out a sardonic laugh.

“Oh, I bet you are,” she said with all the confidence of a person who had just filed paperwork to run for President unopposed. “Well, I appreciate your time, but I really must get back to work.”

Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, West conceded and let her go. But, the salesman in him couldn’t quite accept defeat. 

“With the help of Synergix, you could turn the County General Emergency Department into a Center of Excellence.”

Kerry paused a few paces away from West. 

For a brief, fleeting second, West thought he might have won after all when he saw her turn back towards him. That was, until he saw the smug smile on her face. 

“You see, Dr. West, I like to think we already are one. We’ve got good doctors. We provide good care. We don’t need to sell our department out to middlemen or commit insurance fraud to make that happen.”

West’s face fell ever so slightly. Surely he wanted to reply to her jibe about insurance fraud, but he didn’t. He just inclined his head in concession and then turned as if going to put away the projector. 

Kerry smiled broader and was ready to start for the door once again. But it was West’s turn to pause and turn back. 

He tapped his chin with an index finger for a moment, deep in thought. Then he turned his head in interest.

“Chief of Staff at County General would be… Don Anspaugh… yeah?”

Kerry felt an ice cube drop into the pit of her stomach, but did her best not to show it on her face. 

“Yes. That’s right.”

West nodded sincerely, his jaw set and the look on his face contemplative.

“I thought so. I met him at a conference a while back. Good man. Wouldn’t mind reconnecting with him at some point,” West thought aloud. “Perhaps, I could swing by County the next time I find my way back to Chicago. I could pop in and see how you’re plan is going when I do. ’m always looking for new ideas in ER management. I’m eager to see how yours does.”

 

Susan crouched behind the coat rack, Suzie by her side. 

Just beyond the array of coats (already hanging up though they were still several months before the Chicago winter set in), they could hear the lock click as it was unlocked.

“Okay, you ready, Suzie?”

Suzie nodded. 

“You’ve gotta stay low to the ground,” Susan whispered. She raised a finger to her lips. “Not a sound.”

Suzie nodded excitedly and raised her own finger to her lips.

“Take it slow,” Susan whispered as the door opened. “And... pounce!”

Kerry stepped inside the door just as Suzie, dressed in her  _ Lion King  _ pajamas with her bath towel that had a hood like a lion’s mane over her shoulders, hopped out from her crouching position. She bared her teeth, her hands raised in claws 

_ “Rawr!”  _

Kerry put a hand over her heart in mock surprise.

“Oh my gosh! There’s a lion in the house! Susan, Susan, come quick! There’s a lion in the house!”

Suzie yanked the towel off her head and grinned proudly.

“Nooooo,” she said in her two-and-a-half year old sing-song voice. “It’s me! Suzie!”

“Suzie can turn into a lion!?” Kerry asked, still in her ‘surprised’ voice. As Susan stood up from her own crouching position, Kerry looked at her and motioned to Suzie. ”Susan, did you know that Suzie can turn into a lion?!”

“Noooo,” Suzie repeated, shaking her head. “I was only ‘tending.”

“Oh, good,” Kerry said, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I was starting to get worried.”

Suzie stared at her for a second, as if trying to figure out if Kerry was being serious or not. Then Suzie smiled, grinning her big face-scrunching-and-all-teeth-showing grin. 

Susan raised her arms up to stretch from her crouch behind the coat rack. She stepped forward towards Kerry and pecked her on the cheek. 

“We were working on our ‘roar’,” Susan informed Kerry, who had to fight the urge to reply with the next line of “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” (“thus far a rather uninspiring thing”).

“Both of you? Because I only saw  _ Suzie  _ roar.” 

Susan rolled her eyes, but Suzie jumped up and down.

“Mommy, roar! Mommy, roar!”

“Okay. Fine. But you have to do it with me, okay, Suzie?”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“Alright. One, two, three.”

_ “RAWR! _ ”

Susan and Suzie both did their best lion roars at once, claws and all. Suzie was so happy with Susan’s roar that as soon as they were finished, she wrapped her arms around Susan’s leg and hugged it tight.

“Very scary, the both of you,” Kerry said, chuckling.

Suzie beamed proudly.

“Okie doke,” Susan said. “Alright, Suzie. It’s time for bed.”

“Not Suzie!  _ Simba _ .”

“I’m so sorry,  _ Simba, _ ” Susan said, correcting herself. “But it’s still time for bed.”

“ _ Nooo _ ,” Suzie/Simba moaned. She crossed her arms and pouted.. “Don’t  _ wanna  _ go to bed.”

“We made an agreement, remember? Mommy let you stay up late so you could show Kerry your roar? You promised to go to bed when we were done.”

Suzie pouted for another few seconds and then sighed. She threw her hands up towards Susan.

“Potatoes.”

“Potatoes? What do you mean potatoes? You’ve already eaten dinner. You can’t possibly be hungry.”

“ _ No _ ,” Suzie whined. She reached up towards Susan again, this time on her tiptoes. “ _ Potatoes _ .”

Susan frowned for a moment, her brow furrowed, as she tried to figure out what Suzie meant. Then, she understood. 

“Right.  _ Potatoes _ ,” she said, nodding. “But you have to go say goodnight first.”

Susan pointed towards Kerry, who had taken a seat in one of the nearby armchairs and was taking off her shoes.

Suzie looked between the women for a second before taking off in Kerry’s direction. She skidded to a halt in front of her and threw her arms around Kerry’s neck with very little warning.

Chuckling, Kerry hugged her back and kissed her forehead before letting go. Suzie responded with one last roar before running back towards Susan and throwing her hands up towards her again.

“Okay. Are you ready?”

Suzie nodded. Susan swung her arms wide to scoop Suzie up. Suzie giggled as Susan heaved her over her shoulder.

“ _ Oof _ . Suzie, you are getting to be a very heavy sack of potatoes,” Susan grunted as she hoisted her daughter up. “Wave goodnight.”

Susan started towards the basement stairs, waiting for Suzie to lift her arm and wave at Kerry as they departed. But instead, she just heard more roaring. 

 

Luckily for Susan, Suzie was out nearly the moment she laid down in her big girl bed.

She returned upstairs to find Kerry already changed into her own pajamas and in bed herself. Her reading glasses were on her nose and she was reviewing the binder containing the ER budget as she had done every night for the last month.

Susan crossed to the dresser she still referred to as “Kerry’s dresser” in her head, though it now contained more of her clothes than Kerry’s. She was already in her flannel pajama pants, but skinned off her t-shirt with the intention of replacing it with a camisole.

Kerry really had to be concerned about this budget stuff, Susan thought, as she didn’t even  _ notice _ the extended period of time she stood there topless.

“How’d your seminar thing go?” Susan asked, slipping on the camisole. She picked up the brush from atop the dresser and ran it through her hair. 

“Uh… not great.” Kerry heaved a sigh and snapped the binder shut. She rubbed a hand over her forehead. “I, uh… I may have screwed myself over.”

Susan plopped down in the empty space next to Kerry on the bed, looking concerned.

“What do you mean you screwed yourself over?” Susan asked cautiously. “You didn’t… you didn’t sign any contracts, did you?”

“No, no,” Kerry said, shaking her head. “I just… The-the presenter… well, first of all, he didn’t answer my question. And then later as I was leaving, he hit on me and then had the  _ audacity _ to say that I needed his help to solve the ER problems.”

Kerry scoffed just thinking about it. Susan tried to look understanding, but she was too busy thinking of how cute Kerry’s accent was when she said words like ‘audacity’.

“So,” Kerry continued, “so I told him… I told him that I already had a plan and that I only went to the presentation so I could report back and tell my Chief of Staff that we were going with my plan.”

“Oh. Well, I mean, it’s not good that you lied, but that’s not the  _ worst _ thing you could have said.”

“Maybe not if he didn’t then tell me he knew Anspaugh and was going to try and come to County and see how my plan was going the next time he was in Chicago.”

Susan grimaced. 

“Okay…” she said, nodding. “I see what you mean now.”

“I just…” Kerry dropped her hands to her lap in defeat. “How am I supposed to cut almost a hundred thousand dollars out of the budget without firing anybody? I mean… God, we’re already operating at max capacity. If we cut somebody, we’re just… we’re just setting ourselves up for something to go wrong.”

Kerry closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headboard. Susan curled up next to her. 

“I’d tell you to fire Dr. Wilson, but you already did that,” Susan offered as she leaned her head against Kerry’s shoulder.

“Yes. But we definitely weren’t paying Dr. Wilson anywhere  _ close _ to $98,000,” Kerry muttered. “This whole thing, the whole fixing-the-budget thing, it’s like trying to solve the age-old emergency department question. Hell, the whole  _ healthcare  _ question in general. How do we serve the most patients, do it well, and do it for free?”

Immediately, Kerry sat up (and, due to her position, Susan sat up too).

“Carol’s clinic.”

“What?”

“Carol’s clinic,” Kerry repeated. She turned to Susan. “Carol’s new free clinic. That’s it.”

Susan frowned.

“Carol has a free clinic?”

“What do you mean ‘Carol has a free clinic’? It’s right in the ER.” When Susan remained confused, Kerry raised an eyebrow. “It’s the reason we lost an exam room?”

“Ooooh,” Susan said, sitting back. “That’s for a free clinic? I just assumed it had flooded.”

For a moment, Kerry stared at Susan the way Suzie had stared at her: unsure if the other person was serious or not. But when Susan didn’t crack a smile, Kerry’s frown deepened. 

“When did it flood?”

“Uh… I think it was before your time. I think I was an intern.” Even with this conclusion, Susan paused to think as she still wasn’t convinced. “It might have been two months ago. The years are all blurring together.”

Kerry stared for a moment, her mouth slightly open as she processed this, before she just shook her head and continued. 

“No. But Carol’s clinic. I bet… If we did it right, we could save  _ way  _ more than $98,000,” Kerry said, clearly thinking out loud. “And I bet we could offset at least part of that with research grants.”

“Hang on,” Susan said, holding up a hand to slow Kerry down. “You want to use Carol’s free clinic to save the ER money?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Kerry said enthusiastically. “I mean… just think of how many patients we see in one day for non-emergent needs, or hell, even for  _ emergent _ needs that only come to us because they don’t have anywhere else to go to get healthcare. They know we can’t turn them away if they can’t pay. 

“But emergency departments are not  _ meant _ to treat chronic illness nor are we supposed to be the first point of care. So, if we- if we partner with the free clinic, the patients could go there and get care  _ instead of _ coming to us.”

“So… it would reduce ER costs because the uncompensated patients are not costing the hospital money,” Susan said slowly, gauging Kerry’s response to see if she was on the right path. 

“Exactly,” Kerry said, nodding. “I mean… just-just getting taken back to be seen? It’s automatically about $350. And that’s for non-emergent, very basic, would-have-gone-to-your-PCP-if-you-had-one level care.  Treat a hundred of those patients in the clinic, and we’re already saving over a third of that cost.

“And that’s not even  _ counting _ the true emergencies that come from a lack of chronic disease management. You know, the patients in DKA with a blood glucose of 780 because they can’t get their insulin or an asthma patient in cardiac arrest because they couldn’t get a prescription for a rescue inhaler.”

Susan listened intently, though for a moment, she wasn’t sure if they were still talking about the ER budget or if Kerry was just slipping into a rant on the importance of universal healthcare. 

“It… it wouldn’t be all at once. It would probably be longitudinal… But that’s why it could be a  _ study _ . Something like… ‘ _ Chronic Disease Management in a Free Clinic Setting and its effect on ER utilization _ ’. Yeah, yeah. Oh, I’m sure CMS would  _ love  _ to fund a study something like that. Or maybe Robert Wood Johnson. Or a bunch of foundations really.”

Susan had to admit that it sounded like a pretty decent idea. But she still had doubts.

“Wouldn’t increasing the number of the patients seen in the clinic make the clinic… busier?”

“Well… yes,” Kerry admitted. “Why?”

“How many are going to work in the clinic? Is it just Carol? Because, if so, she’s going to need a lot more help. More nurses. More doctors.”

Kerry gave this a moment’s thought.

“We have a whole staff right there,” she remarked. “Perhaps… perhaps they could volunteer?”

“They could,” Susan acknowledged, “though we don’t really have much  _ time _ to do so when we work a ridiculous amount every week.”

“That’s true.”

“And I don’t think the clinic would be able to keep up with just you and Carol as volunteers,” Susan concluded, before adding, “ well, you two and Doug Ross.”

Kerry looked at her in confusion.

“You really think Doug Ross would volunteer in a free clinic?”

“ _ Yeah _ ,” Susan said, as if it was the clearest thing in the world, “if that clinic is being run by Carol Hathaway.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s fair,” Kerry admitted. “We would definitely need more doctors though. And I doubt Carol would be able to pay to hire one.”

She and Susan sat in silence for a few minutes as they contemplated how best to staff a free clinic and truly do it for free. 

“What if…” Susan said slowly as the thought formed in her head. “What if it wasn’t a doctor we paid, but rather someone paying to become a doctor?”

Kerry, who had laid back against the headboard as she thought, stared at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up.

“Med students?”

“Yeah.” Susan paused to let her own thought sink in more. “I mean… we get med students all the time who are in their third or fourth year, but have never worked with a real patient before or even done an H&P. That means we have to spend the first part of their rotation just teaching them how to do the most basic stuff before they can actually learn  _ ER _ stuff. 

“Maybe if we could doctors to volunteer every so often, just to precept the students, we could use the med students as the doctors.”

Kerry took her own time to consider before she picked the binder up off her lap. 

She flipped it open to the blank back page of a budget document and picked up a pen from her bedside table. As she scribbled down her notes, Susan saw her start circling key words and drawing arrows away from them, which led to more thoughts. The page was full and she had started on a second one before either of them spoke again.

“Ker?”

“Hmmm?”

“You should probably stop.”

Kerry looked up in something close to alarm.

“Why?”

“Because I just remembered something that we need to keep in mind- and by we, I mean  _ you _ \- need to keep in mind about the whole clinic thing and using it to save the ER money.”

“What?”

“It’s Carol’s clinic. Not yours,” Susan pointed out. “Whatever you do, you would need to get approval from her first.”

The way Kerry paused led Susan to believe that the redhead was considering pushing forward in her typical steamroller-esque manner. But finally, she nodded.

“You’re right. You’re right.” Kerry tapped her pen against the page. “I’ll… I’ll put my thoughts down and then write up a more formal proposal. And I’ll talk to her tomorrow about setting aside some time to chat. Do you think that’s okay?”

Susan could tell by the nervousness in Kerry’s voice that she was really asking for 

“Sounds good to me.”

Kerry nodded and finished scribbling a thought on the paper before closing the binder. 

“So… what did the guy say to you when he hit on you today?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Kerry shrugged. “Something about me being a charming, intelligent, and, uh, attractive woman. Which, honestly, probably would have worked on me if I didn’t know…  _ other _ things.”

Susan smiled and kissed Kerry on the cheek. She continued to kiss her cheek several times before pushing the binder off Kerry’s lap and onto the floor.

“ _ Well,  _ not that it’s okay by any means, but he  _ does  _ have a point. So, credit where credit is due,” she said as she started kissing down Kerry’s neck. “But, it’s a good thing you’re not going to work with him, ‘cause if you did, there’s a chance I might have to beat him up.”

“Oh yeah?” Kerry asked, chuckling as she relaxed into Susan’s kisses.

“Yeah. The only one who’s allowed to hit on you is me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. We got to the  _real_ reason I wrote this fic: to use my arcane, I mean  _professional_ , knowledge of the American healthcare system in a fanfiction. 
> 
> I'm kidding, of course. About the real reason I wrote this fic, I mean. Not about having arcane knowledge about healthcare. That part is true. I really am kinda sorta considered an authority on American healthcare by peers and colleagues. Like... I give lectures and trainings on things like health policy, health insurance, etc. In other words, the only people who care  _more_  about health policy than me are Kerry Weaver, Leslie Knope, and the seventeen thousand people running for the Democratic Presidential nomination. And at least a few people in those examples are fictional.
> 
> But for real though, one of the reasons I fell hard for  _ER_ is because it is  _still_ scarily relevant today. As someone who works in healthcare access, for a character to start a free clinic in one episode and then a few episodes later hear another character say "decent healthcare should not be a luxury," I got more than a little freaked out. These episodes are older than my sister, who is currently employed by an ER. Ack.
> 
> So, as someone who works not just in healthcare access, but  _specifically_ in free and charitable healthcare, consider this my recommendation for how season four  _should_ have gone. Literally, Kerry had the opportunity to save all that ER money right under her nose, and instead she was wooed by Synergix boy and fired Jeanie.  _Ugh_. I hated that. (And that was even before seeing all their friendship in seasons 2 and 3!)
> 
> Anyways, we're up to  _Ground Zero_ (s4e6). We're skipping ahead by quite a few episodes on the next one, but I hope once you see what I have in store, you'll understand why I'm eager to do so.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Until next time.


	19. Chapter 19

Susan pulled open the door and let out a sigh of relief.

“Rochelle, ray of sunshine and light of my life. I am so glad to see you.”

The tall, athletic, young black woman rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“How late is Dr. Weaver today?”

“Forty-five minutes,” Susan stated. When Rochelle shivered in the cold, she immediately started waving her in. “Come in, come in.”

Rochelle muttered a word of thanks and stepped inside the townhouse. 

“I’m sorry for such a late notice. I hope I didn’t wake you up when I called.”

“Nah, I was up anyway,” Rochelle said, waving Susan away. “I’ve got an O Chem exam next week and I have no clue what I’m doing, so I was up anyways.”

“Gotcha. Well, you should know that Kerry double-majored in biology and chemistry in undergrad, so, because she’s late and not here to say no, I’m going to volunteer her to tutor you.”

Rochelle looked at Susan wide-eyed for a second.

“Are- are you serious?” she asked quickly. “Because you sound like you’re joking, but that would be really great actually.”

“Oh, I’m definitely serious. Whether she follows through on it, I can’t say, but I am definitely volunteering her.”

Rochelle chuckled as she pulled off her hat and gloves and stowed them in her coat pockets.

“She was supposed to be off at eleven,” Susan explained as she and Rochelle started down the hallway towards the kitchen. “It only takes fifteen, _maybe_ twenty minutes to drive home at this time of night, so she should be here by now.”

Rochelle slid her backpack off and set it on the kitchen island and then shimmied out of her coat.

“Didn’t you say before that sometimes you guys get stuck in the, oh, what do you call them? Traumas? You get stuck in the traumas and can’t get away from them for a while?”

Susan inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, sometimes. But usually when that happens, we try to get one of the nurses or desk clerks to call and I’ve gotten nothing so far tonight.”

Rochelle shrugged, nodding.

“Well, did you hear about that chemical plant explosion? On the news?”

“Only a little bit.”

“Me too,” Rochelle said, “but it sounded pretty bad. Maybe the hospital just got overwhelmed.”

Susan sighed. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Susan agreed. “So, I really need to get down there, don’t I?”

Susan picked up her purse from the counter and double-checked to make sure that she had everything she needed. 

“Alright. I know you know the drill, but pager numbers are on the fridge-”

“And if it’s a real emergency, you’re in the ER anyway, so just call 9-1-1,” Rochelle finished. “I know, Dr. Lewis.”

“I know you do. Just making sure,” Susan said, raising her hands defensively. “Okay. Well, I’m off. Kerry should be home soon, and if something big is going on that will require her to stay, we’ll call.”

“Sounds good.”

Rochelle pulled her Organic Chemistry textbook out of her backpack as Susan crossed by her and back towards the front door. Then, she remembered. 

“Oh! Dr. Lewis?”

Susan stopped and turned back to see Rochelle leaning forward and looking down the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“The, uh, ‘late notice tip’?”

“The extra twenty dollars is already in there,” Susan assured her. 

“Great. Thanks.” Rochelle gave a thumbs up, which Susan returned before turning for the door again. “And, Dr. Lewis, don’t be too mean to her!”

“I make no promises!”

 

Susan checked her watch as she ran across the ambulance bay and into the ER. But before she could curse yet again about her lateness, she stepped inside and froze at the scene of doctors and nurses transporting patients and supplies inside. 

She looked around for a minute before she spotted Mark at the admit desk.

“What the hell happened here?”

Mark shrugged. 

“Something about having the evacuate the whole ER? I don’t know. I just got on,” Mark replied. “You should talk to Carter.”

“Evacuating the ER?” Susan repeated in disbelief. “Why?”

“Something about chemical workers and HazMat,” Mark said, with another shrug. “I take it you weren’t here then?”

“No. I’ve been doing nights and Kerry’s been doing days  to cover for you. Since we didn’t know when you were going to get back,” Susan explained. “How’s your mom by the way?”

“Eh. Fine,” Mark said, dodging the question. “We’ll talk later.”

Susan wanted to push him to talk now, but there were more pressing things to attend to at the moment. 

“Okay. Later is fine,” Susan said. “Anyway you could point me in the direction of one Kerry Weaver? She owes me twenty bucks.”

“Why?”

“Because she made me late. Have you seen her?”

“Sure,” Mark said with a chuckle. “She was talking to Jeanie. Somewhere over there.”

Mark pointed loosely in the direction of the trauma rooms. Susan gave him a double thumbs up and turned for the hall. 

She heard Kerry’s voice before she saw her. 

Susan rounded the corner right before the trauma rooms and stopped dead in her tracks about ten feet from where Kerry and Jeanie stood arguing.

“Kerry, the oxygen is a _treatment_ ,” Jeanie pushed. Her arms were crossed and her jaw set. “If you need another one, it means we should be treating you. Not letting you treat others.”

“I don’t _need_ it,” Kerry replied, though it was clear by the slight wheeze in her voice that she did. “It’s- it’s a _precautionary_ measure. Just _in case_ I need it. But I don’t.” 

That’s when Kerry caught sight of Susan out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and then motioned for Susan to come over.

“Susan, please tell Jeanie that my asking for another canister of oxygen is not because I need it, but just a- a safeguard. Just in case.”

But Susan didn’t move. When there was no response, both Kerry and Jeanie looked at her, confused. 

“Susan?”

“What happened to you?” 

Susan’s voice cracked as she asked the question. Kerry looked at her, to Jeanie, and then back to Susan. 

“No one told you?”

“Told me _what?”_ Susan asked in a voice that was supposed to be a yell, but ended up barely more than a whisper.

“Uh, there was, um…” Kerry sighed and looked at Jeanie. “An incident. It was no big deal though-”

“Yes, it was. It _was_ a big deal,” Jeanie said, cutting her off. She turned to Susan. “Kerry had a hypoxic seizure earlier tonight.”

Just like it had when she had seen Mark slumped over in the doorway to the bathroom, Susan’s heart seized painfully.

At her continued silence, Kerry’s brow furrowed.

“But I’m fine now,” she said, trying to be reassuring.

“You’re getting oxygen through a nasal cannula.”

“Well, yes, but… But it’s fine, I promise.”

Susan was not convinced by any means. She raised her hands to her temples for a moment before taking a deep breath and lowering them.

“Okay,” she said slowly. She raised a finger in Kerry’s direction. “You, go sit down.”

“Susan, I’m fine-”

“Go sit down on that bed or I swear to God, I’ll strap you down,” Susan said, pointing towards the empty room to Kerry’s right, her fear translating into a tone of frustration.

 Kerry, opened her mouth to reply, but she was too tired to argue. So, instead, she just rolled her eyes and did as directed. Though, she did grumble under her breath as she did so. 

Once Susan was sure Kerry had done as she asked, she turned to Jeanie. All the frustration in her voice disappeared immediately and was replaced with fearful concern.

“Jeanie,” Susan said shakily, dropping her voice. “Jeanie, what… what happened?”

“There was an explosion at a chemical plant. A few of the workers came in covered in this solvent called benzene and Kerry was the first one to start triaging them. She inhaled too much of it and had a grand mal seizure.”

“From hypoxia.”

Jeanie nodded. When Susan closed her eyes in an effort not to let herself cry, Jeanie laid a comforting hand on her arm.

“I know this sounds like such a stupid question,” Susan said quietly, “but will she be… is she okay?”

“I think so,” Jeanie said, nodding. “She’s pretty much back to normal now. She’s even lectured Carter already, so I think she’ll be fine.”

Jeanie smiled reassuringly and Susan knew there was no way she would lie to her. But after a moment, Jeanie’s smile faded just slightly.

“I will say though that her memory of the last couple hours is a bit spotty. And, since she can’t really remember all that happened, I think she’s convinced herself it wasn’t really that bad. But I want to be honest with you Susan. It was,” Jeanie said sincerely. “She was significantly altered for several hours.” 

If the image of Kerry having a seizure wasn’t bad enough, the image of the commanding, brash redhead confused and shaken on a gurney was even worse.

“And the oxygen?” Susan asked after a moment of trying to rid her mind of those thoughts. 

“It’s the treatment for benzene exposure,” Jeanie informed her. “We immediately tried to get her on a mask when she collapsed and then treated with oxygen and some continuous nebs for a while. Just to get her lungs open and get her as much air as possible.”

“Do you think she still needs it?”

“As she said, she doesn’t _need_ it,” Jeanie acknowledged, “but I do think it would be good to have her on it at least overnight.”

Susan nodded, slowly at first and then faster. 

“And it goes without saying,” Jeanie added, “but I don’t think she should be working.”

That almost made Susan laugh as she had no doubt in the world that if there was anyone who could have a major medical emergency at work and insist on finishing their shift, it was Kerry Weaver.

“I’ll talk to her,” Susan said at last. She raised a requesting hand in the direction of the chart was holding. “May I?”

“Sure,” Jeanie said, handing it over. She smiled. “Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

“I don’t know. She usually listens to _you_.”

Jeanie chuckled. Susan gave a small smile and heaved a deep sigh.

“Thank you,” she said in a very small voice, “for taking care of her.”

“Of course.”

Jeanie squeezed Susan’s arm consolingly once more before stepping past her and starting down the hallway. Susan muttered another word of thanks and began planning her next steps, which she knew had to be in the direction of the nearby exam room.

“Oh, and Susan, one more thing?”

Susan turned around to see Jeanie paused a few feet away.

“She _did_ ask me to call you. Almost a dozen times. I just couldn’t get to a phone.”

Susan smiled and nodded. Jeanie smiled in reply and continued on her way.

She watched the other woman go for a minute before she took another deep breath and, strengthening her resolve, turned for the door. 

Kerry sat with her legs hanging over the side of the bed, her crutch propped up against the bed next to her. She seemed to be reading the gauge on the oxygen tank, though, judging by her squint, not having her glasses on was making it difficult.

It struck Susan how small Kerry looked sitting on the bed. This made her heart seize painfully again.

At the sound of the door closing, Kerry looked up and immediately huffed in frustration.

“It was not necessary to yell at me in front of Jeanie,” she informed Susan as if she was correcting someone on their technique in a trauma. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Susan closed the blinds on the door before she crossed to the bed and took a seat. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Kerry said a little insistently. “I just want to go do my work-”

 _“Kerry,”_ Susan said in the warning tone she usually reserved only for Suzie when the toddler was about to intentionally do something against the rules.

There was silence for a moment before Kerry replied in a voice so low that Susan almost missed it.

“I’m tired. I’m _really_ tired.”

Susan nodded and laid a gentle hand on Kerry’s leg. 

“You stay here and rest. I’m going to go get your stuff and let Mark know I’m taking you home,” Susan said softly. Then she frowned, her brow furrowing. “Unless you’d rather stay here.”

Kerry shook her head. 

“I want to go home.”

“Okay. And you’re going to be okay with the front stairs and everything?”

Although part of her still bristled anytime Susan asked about her ability to do certain things, she had to admit she preferred Susan’s forthright questions over assumptions or omissions . And they both knew that, regardless of whether her hip was bothering her that day, her limp was always worse when she was exhausted because she couldn’t be bothered to try and conceal it anymore.

She nodded. 

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

Susan rubbed Kerry’s leg once more before rising and starting towards the admit desk. 

She managed to catch Mark at Curtain Two as she exited the lounge, having grabbed Kerry’s coat and purse from her locker.

“Hey Mark-”

“You found her?”

“Yeah.” Susan sighed. “I need to-”

“Take her home,” Mark finished. He cracked a small smile. “I figured.”

“I promise, as soon as I get her home and settled, I’ll be right back,” Susan assured him.

But Mark just waved her away.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got you covered.”

“It’s okay, really. I just want to make sure that she gets to bed and everything-”

“ _Susan_ ,” Mark said, chuckling slightly as he cut her off. “I said don’t worry about it. You guys covered for me. I’ll cover for you. Just get her home safe and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

 

Rochelle was more than a little surprised for the front door to open and reveal not just Kerry, wearing green scrubs and a nasal cannula, but Susan as well, bringing up the rear with an oxygen tank. 

Neither offered any explanation for the conditions of the arrival, but she figured whatever circumstances had led to it probably had something to do with why Kerry was so late in getting home from work.

Kerry and Susan bade Rochelle goodnight. Or, at least Susan did. Kerry just waved weakly from where she had taken a seat at the kitchen island.

“Are you hungry?” Susan asked, opening the fridge as she returned to the kitchen after walking Rochelle out. “I could make you a sandwich or heat you up some of the pasta from yesterday?”

“I’m not hungry. I just want to take a bath and go to sleep.”

“I thought Carter said that you had to go through the decontamination shower… Do you need to take another?”

“I don’t know if I _need_ to, but I want to,” Kerry grumbled. “I still smell like chemicals.”

Unable, or perhaps just unwilling, to argue with that, Susan closed the fridge and turned to offer Kerry a hand. She turned it down, but that didn’t stop Susan from hanging close by as Kerry started for the bedroom.

Once inside the master bath, Susan immediately started the bathtub and poured in a capful of bubble bath. Kerry cast her a dark look, but Susan only offered an apologetic shrug and said something about always doing it for Suzie. 

Though she had not accepted a balancing arm earlier, Kerry gratefully held onto Susan’s shoulder as she took off her scrubs. 

It was a bit mortifying to think about she had been in front of Jeanie and the other hospital staff for several hours without a bra on, but it _was_ one less thing she had to take off now.

Susan held the cannula as she took the scrub top off. But when Susan started to replace it once Kerry had removed her shirt, Kerry shook her head. 

“I can take a bath without it,” she said in a half-statement, half-hopefully-self-fulfilling-prophecy.

Susan looked skeptical, but just set the cannula down on the oxygen tank, and offered a hand again as Kerry climbed the bathtub.

“You know you don’t have to stay,” Kerry muttered as the warm bath water washed over her tired muscles. 

“Well, I’m not leaving you in here alone like this, so tough luck.”

And, as if to prove her point, Susan laid a spare towel down on the floor and sat down, her back against the side of the tub.

Kerry sighed and leaned back. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the events of the evening. But when the thoughts came in disjointed flashes, she turned instead to thinking about the feeling of the water against her skin and deliberately relaxing her muscles. 

“You know, it was much easier convincing you to come home tonight then it was to convince you to go to the hospital back in December,” Susan thought aloud as she looked up at the textured ceiling. “I don’t know if that’s a privacy thing or a you-becoming-more-agreeable thing.”

Kerry said nothing. 

Susan turned to see if she was okay only to find Kerry lathering a loofah with soap and purposefully ignoring Susan’s comment.

Susan put an elbow on the rim of the tub and leaned her head against her hand, content to watch her. 

“Do you want help to wash your hair?”

“I was only going to wet it,” Kerry said. She raised an eyebrow. “Why? Do you want to wash my hair?”

Susan shrugged.

“If you want me to,” she replied. “But I’ll be honest, it’s not as much fun now that it’s short.”

“I though you liked my hair short.”

“I do. It’s just not as much to play with.”

Kerry smiled slightly.

Silence fell between them as Kerry ran the loofah up and down her arms and legs, ridding every inch of her from the acrid smell of the chemical soap used to decontaminate her earlier this evening. 

As she was focused on the task at hand, she didn’t notice Susan’s brow furrow as if deep in thought.

Kerry set her loofah on the faucet and used her hand to rinse water over her arms and shoulders. She then carefully pulled her knees up so she could rinse them off too.

“Kerry?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you remember it?”

Kerry paused, letting the handful of water she had scooped up run through her fingers and down back into the bathtub. A few of the droplets splashed onto her leg. 

She watched them roll down, right in between the two faded, round scars on the outside of her left thigh. Suzie called it her “smiley face scar” as the two round scars on the side were matched on the top of her thigh with the scar of a long, thin incision. 

Kerry had taken to the term, partly because she saw the way it sort of looked like a smiling face, and partly because it was more fun to call it that than to explain that she’d worn an external fixator for three months when she was sixteen to lengthen her left leg by two inches.

“No,” she said quietly, still watching the water droplets as they slid down her leg and reconnect with the rest of the bathwater. “I remember… I remember the patients coming in covered in… _something_. I remember how bad it smelled. And then… I remember waking up in the cafeteria.”

As she said it out loud, the disjointed flashes of memory returned. 

She tried to focus on the very beginning. 

She remembered the crash of the doors as the two chemical workers came in dragging the third who was listless in their arms. She remembered scrunching up her face against the terrible smell. She remembered shaking her arm out of her crutch so it wouldn’t get covered in the stuff as she tried to help get the clothes off the unconscious chemical worker. . 

And then... nothing.

Kerry replayed it in her head.

The crash, the smell, taking the clothes off of the third worker, and then nothing. 

She kept replaying it over and over again. Three times, four times… and it still ended in nothingness. 

After the fifth time of thinking through it and trying to remember, her chest began to heave. She wrapped her arms around her legs and just started sobbing. 

All of the fear, all of the confusion… it all just started pouring out of her in the form of hot, wet tears. And with those tears and all the emotion that brought them about, the one question that had been nagging at her since she came to in the cafeteria came out.

“Why… did it have… to be… _me?_ ” Kerry sobbed. “Why did it have to be _me?_ ”

Susan’s heart broke.

She laid a gentle hand on Kerry’s shoulder and just rubbed it comfortingly for a moment. Kerry’s words rang through her had.

_Why did it have to be me?_

This was not Kerry wishing it had happened to someone else. It wasn’t her saying that someone _else_ should have had the seizure and not her, or worse, that someone less important should have had it. 

These weren’t the words of someone wishing something bad onto others instead of themselves. No, these were the words of someone who was terrified of people thinking she was weak having  ended up vulnerable and in the care of the very people she feared would think that.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Susan replied quietly. “What I _do_ know is that you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else in that ER to go through this. And I know that- that when _you_ did, those people, your staff… they turned out for you.”

Kerry’s sobs slowed just as Susan herself started to choke up.

“I talked to Carter before I came to get you and take you to the car. And he said that, of all the stuff that happened tonight, the thing that scared him the most was seeing you collapse.” Susan had to pause as saying the words out loud almost made her lose it. “He said that the first thing he did was make sure once the ER was evacuated was run and look up how to treat you. His first… his first priority was making sure that you were going to be okay.”

Susan drew in a deep shaky breath and shook her head slowly, her fingers rubbing back and forth over her forehead.

“And I am really, really glad he did,” Susan whispered, “because what if he hadn’t? What if something had gone wrong or it was going to get worse and-and-and you-”

When Susan trailed off, Kerry slowly raised her head. 

She found Susan, eyes shut tight and tears streaming down her face, sitting with her forehead in a death grip. She remained like this for what seemed like an eternity, before she finally wiped her eyes and looked straight at Kerry. 

“I don’t know why it was you.” Susan took a deep breath. “But I know that it was and the people that you look out for every day, they looked out for you. And I am really fucking grateful for that.”

Kerry wanted to nod, but crying had made her already-exhausted body feel like it was made of lead. So, instead, she just smiled weakly. 

Susan cupped Kerry’s cheek in her hand, her thumb gently wiping away the wetness on her face. Whether it was from the tears or the bathwater, Susan didn’t know nor care. 

“And to think,” she began, with a watery chuckle, “Carter did all that and you don’t even _pay_ him. Imagine what he would have done if he actually had skin in the game.”

Kerry smiled a bit broader, which let Susan’s relief grow just a bit more. 

“Carter’s a good kid.”

“Yes, he is,” Susan agreed. “You should probably start paying him.” 

Kerry laughed again.

She took her time and rinsed the last bit of the soap from her skin before putting her hands on the sides of the tub, which Susan took as the cue that Kerry was ready to get out. 

Susan provided Kerry a steadying arm  as she stepped out before wrapping her in a fresh towel via a bear hug. 

She kept her arms wrapped around Kerry for a long moment, suddenly scared of letting go. But eventually she felt Kerry lean into her more which meant that she really needed to sit down. So, Susan reluctantly released her. 

“Okay, I have one more thing to say, and then I’ll let it go,” Susan said in a tone that was  half-joking and half-sincere. “Between Mark last spring and you now, no one I know and love is allowed to be a trauma patient for the next five to seven years, okay? Because I can’t be doing this all the time.”

Kerry chuckled and held the towel tighter against her. 

“Well, I can’t speak for Mark, but I promise I’ll do my best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie,  _Exodus_ is one of my favorite episodes of  _ER_. Carter does such a good job taking care of everyone and Elizabeth works so hard to pull that guy out of the rubble. I particuarly like that part where Carter just dunks that guy's head into a thing of ice water while everyone watches.
> 
> I will say though that I felt a little gipped that we never got to see Kerry process or barely even  _talk_ about what happened afterwards, save for one comment to Morgenstern later on. Yes, this is a common theme for Kerry (as the same sort of thing happens following  _A Little Help From My Friends_ ). In both cases, I wanted more of the emotional processing she does and in this episode, I felt that there was more to it than Kerry just feeling a little bit better and lecturing Carter about the proper way to talk to the press.  
> I mean, by now, the powers that be have established Kerry to be a smart, headstrong woman who is shown to be very sensitive about her disability and goes out of her way to make sure that no one thinks she's weaker because of it. To have been the only person to have passed out, and then to have had a grand mal seizure while the entire ER staff watched would have certainly played on these fears and emotions. 
> 
> I hope that I made up for TPTB's omission here and did the character justice at the same time. Perhaps I'm the only one who thinks about that kind of stuff, but thinking about that kind of stuff is a lot of the reason I write fanfiction.
> 
> But anyways. I know that we've had a chapter of Susan comforting Kerry while sick and a chapter of Susan dealing with Mark's trauma, so this chapter might feel a little bit repetitive, but it felt necessary. At least, it felt necessary to me. I hope it's not too repetitive, but feel free to provide feedback if it is. I promise we'll get back to a bit more of the plot heavy stuff soon, but if I don't intersperse the plot-driving chapters with deep character reflection, than I'm not really writing fanfiction am I?
> 
> Hope you guys are good and, as always, thank you for reading! Until next time.  


	20. Chapter 20

Kerry was sure that if she stared at these budget documents any more, her vision would blur.

She really wanted to get up and stretch, but the presence of Suzie asleep on her lap prevented that. So, instead, she just rolled her neck back and forth a few times.

Typically, thanks to carefully planned work schedules, Kerry and Susan rarely needed childcare during the day. But, thanks to Kerry’s volunteering schedule with the clinic (and Rochelle’s classes at Loyola), there was a gap of three hours on Tuesday mornings where they needed an alternative option. 

The past few weeks, it had been daycare. However, a brief case of the sniffles had put Suzie on probation that lasted two more days and led to her impromptu nap on Kerry’s lap in the ER lounge.

Suzie shifted in her sleep and for a second, Kerry feared she might have woken her up. But then the little girl just sighed and remained fast asleep.

“Hello? Dr. Weaver?”

Kerry turned her head slightly towards the door.

A young white woman with long blonde hair and the short white coat of a med student stood in the doorway of the lounge. She looked hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be there or not.

“Yes?”

The young woman stepped in further and let the door shut behind her. When it snapped shut, her eyes immediately widened at the sight of the sleeping child in the room.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologize, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I was told to come see you.”

“I’m not precepting students at the clinic today,” Kerry replied automatically. “If you want to volunteer, you need to come back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I mixed up the days,” the woman answered sheepishly. “But since I’m here, I wanted to know if there was anything I could do. Carol Hathaway… the clinic director? She said that she didn’t have anything, but I should check with you.”

Kerry shook her head. 

“I can’t let you do anything in the clinic without supervision-”

“It doesn’t have to be clinic-related,” the young woman replied quickly, cutting Kerry off. At the raised eyebrow she got in reply, she faltered a bit. “I’m sorry. I just… I already took the day off and I thought maybe there was something you might need. Even hospitality or something. I just… want to be helpful.”

Kerry inhaled deeply. The way Suzie was sitting was really starting to bother her hip, but it was the best the girl had slept in days, so there was no way in hell she was going to try and move her. 

She glanced down at the paperwork laid out over the table. 

“How are you with numbers?”

The woman blinked. 

“Numbers?” she asked slowly, unsure of whether Kerry was serious or not.

“Yes. Numbers. Data.” She picked up two of the spreadsheets on top of the pile and threw them haphazardly onto the empty space next to her at the table. “I’m consolidating data for a summary. You can help with that.”

The young woman paused for a moment as if to consider the offer, before she crossed to the table and took a seat. She pulled the spreadsheets towards her.

 “That page is the total number of lab tests, diagnostic tests, prescriptions, and procedures that were ordered for those patients. That page has how much each of those tests, prescriptions, and procedures would cost to the patient and to the hospital if they were administered in the ER,” Kerry explained, pointing out the different spreadsheets. “I want you to calculate the costs for both patients and the ER. Separate it by type and then total it at the bottom.”

The young woman nodded, but she still seemed hesitant.

“Is there a problem?”

“Uh… no,” she replied slowly, “it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“You know you can do this on a computer, right? Like you can set up a spreadsheet in Microsoft Excel that can calculate all this for you.”

“Yes, I know that,” Kerry hissed (as speaking sharply in a whisper was, at the moment, preferable to snapping). “I made the spreadsheets on Excel. But I need to put the numbers together by noon and I can’t get to a computer right now. Or have you not noticed the three-year-old asleep on my chest?”

“Right, right. Sorry.” The young woman nodded and immediately grabbed a nearby pen. “I didn’t mean to imply or, you know, assume… I just-”

_ “Slow down _ ,” Kerry instructed as the young woman spoke so fast that Kerry almost had a hard time understanding her. “Take a deep breath and say that again.”

The young woman closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. 

“I just meant,” she began slowly, “that I’m a big believer in using technology to help us out. I didn’t want you to have to do all of this by hand when computers can save so much time and energy. I mean, look at this.”

The young woman set down her pen and reached into one of the pockets of her white coat. She pulled out a small rectangular device which she opened up. It turned out to be a tiny little laptop.

“I got this when I started med school,” she explained, tapping the screen and then handing it to Kerry. “Most of my classmates think it’s cheating, but to me, it’s the same thing as checking a textbook or carrying one of those pocket guides around with you.”

Kerry looked at it for a moment, reading the folder names on the Palmtop with skepticism. The young woman sensed this and her smile faltered slightly. 

“Not that I don’t study or anything,” she added quickly. “It’s just for reference.”

Kerry said nothing, but just nodded and handed the Palmtop back. The young woman, her cheeks now red, slid it back into her pocket and quickly returned to her work. 

Silence fell for a few minutes, save for the scratching of the med student’s pen.

Suzie let out a tiny whimper in her sleep. Without hesitation, Kerry started rubbing her back. When the little girl sighed deeply again, Kerry leaned her head back slightly to look at her, before brushing a few hairs from her forehead and kissing it gently.

 The med student glanced up from the spreadsheet and smiled slightly.

“Is that your daughter?”

Kerry paused for a moment, as if figuring out how to answer. Then, with an expression the med student would later describe as ‘pained’, she sighed and shook her head. 

“No. She’s my friend’s daughter,” she said in a low voice. “She’s in the ER, so I’m looking after her.”

“Is she okay? Your friend?”

At the sound of panic in the med student’s voice, Kerry looked up. She frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“She’s  _ working _ in the ER. Because she’s a physician.”

The med student stared, open mouthed, for a moment, before scoffing at herself. 

“Of course. Sorry. I’m just… I’m still not used to people saying things like that. Like that they’re in the ER and not, you know,  _ in the ER _ .”

Kerry chuckled softly and smiled.

“My ex-husband was a surgeon. He was a resident when I was still in med school,” Kerry said, “and I remember once  I was at home studying and I got a phone call. It was him and he said, ‘don’t panic, but I’m at the hospital’. And of course, I panicked. I said, ‘what do you mean you’re at the hospital? What happened?’... And then I heard him laughing on the other end.

“He did that to me three different times.  _ Just  _ far enough apart, that I forgot that he had done it before. And I fell for it every time.”

 The med student smiled and once again turning back to the spreadsheet. But within a few minutes, she had looked up again, frowning.

“Uh, Dr. Weaver?”

“Hmmm?”

“These numbers don’t look right,” she said, sliding the page over so Kerry could see. “I mean… did the clinic really do over a thousand blood pressure and blood glucose sticks each month?”

“Yes, it did,” Kerry replied, nodding. “Back in October when I proposed bringing med students in to help staff the clinic, she proposed hiring a nurse practitioner so we could include nursing students as well. 

“A few of the students that came the first time immediately fell in love with it and began talking to Carol and Lynette about outreach events. They started in January. They go and will do blood pressure screenings and finger sticks. So far, they’ve done two at nursing homes, one at a community center, one at a parent-teacher fair at a school… They ran with it so much that when Carol put together an official Steering Committee, she had to include all three nursing students as student liaisons because if she didn’t, there would have been bloodshed.”

“Steering Committee?”

“It’s like a Board of Directors, but not as official,” Kerry explained. “We only met for the first time two weeks ago. Carol is the Executive Director, I’m the Medical Director, and Lynette is the Nursing Director. Plus our three nursing student liaisons. And I think Carol is meeting with our ER social worker Adele later this month to discuss incorporating social services into the mix too.”

The young woman’s eyebrows rose.

“It’s certainly exploded fast then.”

Kerry nodding. Her eyes momentarily grew wide at the thought that, at the rate clinic use  _ was _ going, there wouldn’t be enough room to serve everyone.

“But… How is it sustainable?”

“What?”

“I mean,” the med student said, pointing at the “Cost Per Unit” column of the spreadsheet, “if this is how much the service costs for the clinic to provide, how are you affording it?”

“Oh, this is not the cost to the  _ clinic _ ,” Kerry said, shaking her head. “This is the cost to the  _ ER _ . The costs listed here are the cost of the service in the ER, so the sum is approximately how much is saved by providing the services at the clinic.”

The student nodded and looked back down at the page.

“Wow. That’s a lot of money.”

“Yes, it is.”

The med student looked up, her brow furrowed slightly.

“You said you have nursing students on the Steering Committee, right?” 

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Do you have any med students?”

“Not currently,” Kerry informed her, “but I should say that if you’re interested, you should talk to Carol. It’s her clinic, not mine.”

The med student nodded just as the door to the lounge opened again. Both Kerry and the med student looked up at the same time to see a frazzled-looking Susan Lewis rush.

“I thought you were going to come get me when it was time,” Susan said quickly, rushing forward to scoop Suzie off Kerry’s lap. “Don’t you have your meeting with Anspaugh?”

“What time is it?”

“12:22 pm,” Susan answered as Kerry helped lift Suzie into her arms. “I would have come in sooner, but I got caught up in a trauma.”

“I’m glad you came in at all. I was telling…” Kerry looked towards the med student. “What’s your name?”

“Lucy Knight.”

“I was just telling Ms. Knight here about the clinic,” Kerry informed Susan as she stood up carefully to give her legs time to wake up. “But I should really get upstairs.”

Kerry picked up her crutch and turned to Lucy Knight. 

“I’m sorry to cut you off, Ms. Knight, but I promise we’ll continue our conversation at some point.,” Kerry said. “And do talk to Carol about the committee, if you’re serious about it.”

 

Kerry stepped off the elevator on the surgical floor at exactly 12:29 pm and immediately turned in the direction Donald Anspaugh’s office.

She knocked lightly on the door and heard a voice reply, “come in”. 

“Ah, Kerry. Good you’re here,” Anspaugh said in greeting, setting his pen down. “When you weren’t here five minutes ago, I thought you may have forgotten.”

“No, sir. Not at all,” she replied, shaking her head. “I just got caught up in paperwork.”

Anspaugh nodded and folded his hands together on the desk in front of him.

“Well, seeing as Robert Romano has scheduled a splenectomy for me in half an hour, I’ll try and make this quick,” Anspaugh said. He sighed deeply. “First, no doubt you’ve heard about David Morgenstern’s resignation?”

“I have, yes,” Kerry replied, nodding. “It’s a shame. He’s a good man and a great doctor.”

“And a damn fine surgeon,” Anspaugh added. “A terrible loss for County, truly.  _ But,  _ the hospital doesn’t stop for one man, which is why I wanted to ask you if you were willing to resume the duties as Acting Chief of Emergency Services?”

“To be perfectly frank, sir, I never really stopped.”

Anspaugh sat back in his chair and let out a single chuckle. 

“Ah, yes. I’m sure that was the last thing on David’s mind,” Anspaugh pondered aloud. “Well, that’s that then. Next, I wanted to discuss Doug Ross’ proposal for a pediatric emergency department. You read it, yes? What are your thoughts?”

Kerry took a moment to make sure she had her words together before she replied.

“Well, I’ll say that when he first brought it up, my initial thought was ‘well, if we need a pedes ER, does that mean we need a geriatric ER too?’” Kerry took a deep breath. “But… I have since changed my mind.”

“Really?” Anspaugh raised an eyebrow. “I was sure you were going to be a very strong ‘no’. What changed that?”

“Well… Carol Hathaway, our ER nurse who serves as the clinic director downstairs, presented about the clinic a few weeks ago at the meeting of the Chicago chapter of ACEP. I was there and afterwards, Carol and I ended up in a conversation with Dr. Katrina Al-Fayed from-”

“Children’s Memorial.”

Under any other circumstances, Kerry would have thought that Anspaugh knew this so quickly due to inter-hospital communication. But given how sick his son was, she figured that he knew for other reasons.

“Yes,” Kerry confirmed. “Dr. Al-Fayed and I had such a good conversation that we ended up going to dinner and during dinner, I brought up the pedes ER along with my doubts. And when I finished explaining my side, she just chuckled and said, ‘you do know that any time that a pediatric trauma comes to you, it’s coming to the second choice hospital?’ And when she said  _ that,  _ I immediately got offended on behalf of County. 

“I responded and said, ‘what are you talking about? County’s a great hospital.’ To which she replied, ‘yes, but any parent worth a damn wants their child treated at Children’s Memorial. The only reason you get a pediatric trauma is because either we’re closed, or they’d die before they’d get to us.’”

Kerry couldn’t be sure if she imagined it or not, but she thought for a moment, a grim look had settled on Anspaugh’s face. Saying the words “they’d die before they get to us” felt distasteful. 

“She went on,” Kerry continued, eager to get past this part, “by telling me about her residency, which she did at Children’s Hospital in Columbus, Ohio. Children’s Hospital is a Level 1 Pediatric Trauma Center and is right around the corner from a general Level 1 Trauma Center. And what she said that… that truly sold me on the idea was this: ‘that other hospital could  _ handle _ a pediatric trauma, but only Children’s was  _ meant _ to.’”

Kerry let out a sigh.

“There’s still a significant part of me that thinks promoting a pediatrician to the same level as emergentologists within an emergency department undermines the skills and practice of the emergentologists.  _ However _ …” Kerry took a moment and steeled herself to say the words aloud. “Doug Ross is a very gifted pediatrician and, though we disagree…  _ a lot _ … The fact remains that he is better at taking care of pediatric patients than we are. 

“And I know that… that if County  _ has _ to be the second choice hospital for pediatric emergencies, then I want it to be the second  _ best _ ,” Kerry stated. “We will never rival the care that Children’s Memorial can offer. But I’d rather have the second best  Level 1 Pediatric Trauma center in the city than none at all.”

Anspaugh considered this for a moment and then, to Kerry’s chagrin, frowned. 

“It was not my understanding from Ross’ proposal that he intended to create a full Pediatric Trauma Center, only to have a pedes ER  _ within _ the emergency department.”

“That is my understanding as well, yes.”

“Becoming a Level 1 Pediatric Trauma Center would be a substantially  _ larger _ project that Ross is proposing.”

“Correct. It would mean a larger budget, more staff, a bigger space… And it would Doug Ross to attend a pediatric trauma conference in Atlanta next week. Though, I should add, the stipend we’d give him for the conference should offset the rather quick turnaround to go.”

Anspaugh’s brow rose. 

“You’ve certainly thought this through then.”

“I have,” Kerry affirmed. 

“It could mean a substantial increase in the ER’s census, expenditure…”

“Yes, sir. But I think it would be a benefit to the hospital and for pediatric trauma patient who comes through our doors.”

Anspaugh’s lip curled ever so slightly into a satisfied smirk. But just as fast as it appeared, it vanished.

He leaned back in his chair and thought silently for a moment. Then, he let out a great sigh. 

“Tell Ross that we’re moving forward with the pediatric ER and send him to the conference,” Anspaugh instructed, “but don’t make any more plans just yet.”

Kerry blinked.

“Why not? This would be a big change. It needs a clear plan from the start-”

“And it’ll have it,” Anspaugh concluded firmly. “But not until we have selected a  _ permanent _ Chief of Emergency Services.”

The tone of his voice rang clear right into Kerry’s heart and broke it in half. 

“Right,” she said quietly, looking down into her lap. 

“Now, that’s not to say that that won’t be you,” Anspaugh added quickly at the look on Kerry’s face, “but it’s only right that a big, practice changing plan like that is made by the person permanently appointed to the position.”

Anspaugh paused for a moment. When he spoke again, he had assumed a gentler, more grandfatherly tone.

“Kerry, the Board and I are incredibly impressed with what you and Nurse Hathaway have done with that clinic, and more importantly, how you have used it to not just decrease the budget deficit, but actually  _ increase  _ the ER’s budget through decreasing non-emergent care. If it were just up to us, you’d have the job today. But hospital policy requires us to open it up to a national search.”

A national search. 

_ Of course _ , it had to be a national search. This was a huge urban hospital with a staff of over a thousand. They had to ensure that whoever was selected to run their departments was the best in the nation.

The ambitious voice in Kerry’s head told her it was no problem. She was published regularly, she had the experience as the Acting Chief, and she had  _ fantastic _ success with ER budget under her management. But that other voice, the louder, meaner one that told her she wasn’t good enough, reminded her that, while all of that was great, she didn’t have the same esteem that some of her peers did. 

“I understand.”

Anspaugh smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. Nevertheless, he checked his watch and shook his head.

“I must get going. Some poor fellow is about to lose his spleen,” Anspaugh said.

He stood up and Kerry followed suit, though she really would have preferred another few minutes to sit and wallow in self-pity.

“I’d recommend making sure your CV is up to date,” Anspaugh said as he crossed to the door. Then he paused. “That is assuming that you  _ want _ the job, yes?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” Kerry said, nodding sincerely. “I do.”

Anspaugh smiled. 

“I figured.”

Kerry smiled back, though her heart wasn’t in it. 

She pretended to fiddle with the cuff of her crutch, if only to give herself an extra minute not to have to walk out at the same time as Anspaugh. Through her peripheral vision, she could see him turn and walk out into the hall. 

But as she finally slid it onto her arm and straightened up, she heard footsteps returning across the tiled floor.

She looked up to find Anspaugh in the doorway, a thoughtful look on his face.

“That figure of yours. The ER savings from the clinic,” he began slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly, “what is up to now?”

“Uh… Well, it was $656,418,” Kerry replied slowly as she tried to remember. “And that’s not counting the additional $857,000 from the last quarter that we just calculated today.”

Anspaugh nodded slowly.

“So… easily over $1.5 million…”

“Easily.”

Anspaugh’s expression from contemplative to proud. He smiled.

“Make sure you include that in your CV,” he said. Then with a wink he added, “I think the search committee will definitely want to hear about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I definitely did not put together a Google Spreadsheet full of fake free clinic data multiplied by the actual costs of certain services from one of my local hospital systems to determine some of the figures for this chapter. Also, I definitely did not think that scrolling through the 67-page PDF of the hospital services was fascinating and a much better use of my time than paying attention in class.
> 
> Yeah, I'm a dork. I know. 
> 
> I'm a dork who is really excited to write this AU (which is over 60,000 words at the current count) instead of doing my actual homework. Though not the longest story I've ever written, it definitely has the potential to be considering what else I have in store. But, because it _is_ really freaking long, I truly appreciate all of you who are keeping up with it and sticking with it. I'm having a lot of fun writing it. AUs are my favorite type of fanfiction to write because I get to explore the alternative ways things can work out. 
> 
> As always, thank you for all of your comments and kudos and I expect that, if for any reason, anything is not true to character, I want your feedback. Thank you all so, so much. Until next time.


	21. Chapter 21

Kerry spread jelly on a piece of bread and closed it over the piece spread with peanut butter waiting on the counter. Making sure none of the jelly dripped onto her clothes, she slid the sandwich into a Ziploc bag and putting it into her lunch box. 

From somewhere beyond the kitchen, she heard the door open and the sound of someone kicking off their shoes. A moment later, Susan rounded the corner and tossed her keys onto the island.

“What’s wrong?” Kerry asked at the gloomy look on Susan’s face. 

“I’m not feeling very good,” Susan replied. 

Kerry frowned in concern and stepped around the island to feel Susan’s forehead.

“You seemed fine earlier,” she stated. “And you don’t feel warm.”

“It came on really fast,” Susan explained. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to go to the gala tonight.”

Kerry was ready to nod in reply, but then her eyes narrowed. 

“You’re not feeling good wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact the plans Mark was talking about today, would it?”

Susan rolled her eyes.

“ _Of_ _course_ it does,” she said in a disheartened tone. “I heard him say the word ‘goulash’. Nothing fun has _ever_ featured the word ‘goulash’.”

“I know it doesn’t sound… impressive,” Kerry admitted, “but he’s our colleague. And he’s your best friend. We have to go. At the very least to support him. He’s been… well, you know. He’s been sort of… off for a while. And he offered to do all of this himself. ”

Susan crossed her arms and huffed.

“ _ Fine _ ,” she said (though given her tone, it wasn’t fine at all), “but I’m going to get very, very drunk.”

Before Kerry could reply, a look of horror crossed Susan’s face.

“Oh my God. What if he can’t afford to get alcohol?” Susan said in an almost panicked tone. But before she went one, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s okay. That’s fine. I can just get drunk here.”

And without another word, Susan made for the fridge. She pulled an open bottle of white wine from where it chilled on the door, uncapped it, and took a swig.

“Hey!” 

“Actually, this is pretty good,” Susan said, examining the label on the bottle. 

“Yeah, I spent a lot of money on that. Put it back.”

“Well, just because you said that, I won’t.”

Susan shut the fridge door and, at Kerry’s displeased expression, took another long sip from the bottle. As she swallowed, she pointed at Kerry’s outfit. 

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

Kerry’s shoulders dropped in exasperation.

“Is that your way of telling me I need to change?”

“No, no,” Susan said, leaning against the counter. “I like it. But wait… where’s your crutch?”

“In the other room,” Kerry explained. “I’m using this tonight.”

She reached down below the counter and picked up the silver-handled cane. She showed it Susan, who frowned. 

“Huh. I don’t know why it never occured to me that you could use a cane… but it never occurred to me that you could use a cane,” Susan said simply. 

“I don’t like to. It feels too light. Like it’s not sturdy enough. Plus if I let it go, it falls over,” Kerry explained, setting it back down. “But, I get it out every so often. For special occasions.”

“For special occasions?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And what? Our anniversary wasn’t ‘special’ enough for you?”

Color rose in Kerry’s cheeks as she tried to stammer out a reply. 

“You know what? Just for that, I’m going to drink your entire bottle of expensive wine while I change,” Susan said in mock sarcasm (and if she wasn’t going to do so already), “and, I’m just going to say: I am  _ not _ going to wear a bra tonight, and you can’t make me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Susan raised an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t wear a bra tonight or you wouldn’t make me?”

“I wouldn’t make you,” Kerry stated. “I’m of the opinion that people have a right to do what they want with their bodies, so if you don’t want to wear a bra, you don’t have to wear a bra.”

Susan nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s because you want to stare at my boobs, isn’t it?”

“No, of course n- I didn’t- that’s not what I meant…” At the amusement on Susan’s face, Kerry huffed. “You’re teasing me.”

“Yes. But only because you get flustered really easily and it’s adorable,” Susan said, still chuckling. She stepped closer to Kerry and pecked her on the cheek. “Also, you blush really hard and it’s very cute.”

“Go change,” Kerry ordered, though the kiss made her blush harder. “We need to go soon.”

“Fine,” Susan said, rolling her eyes though she was smirking. 

She turned and started for the bedroom door, drinking from the wine bottle as she did so. But when she got to the door, she paused and pointed at Kerry with the same hand that held the wine bottle.

“But I’m just warning you now- if they serve borscht tonight, we’re leaving.”

 

Overall, it definitely could have been worse. 

The bottle of Pinot Grigio Susan had consumed prior to attending the 1998 County General Emergency Department Gala had certainly taken the edge off, and luckily for Susan, the alcohol content of the wine made the edge taken off roughly the size of a rocky outcropping.

After a rousing rendition of “Amore”, she finally had her chance to give her regards to the host.

“Hey. You. Tall one,” she said, waving Mark down from across the room. “Come here.”

She made her way to him and clapped him on the shoulder heartily, though Mark could tell it was (at least in part) to steady herself). It didn’t do much though, as the wine in her glass currently threatened to slosh over onto the floor.

“I just wanted to tell you,” she said, doing her best to look him in the eye though her tipsiness made that difficult, “I wasn’t going to come. Because I thought your party was gonna suck. But Kerry made me because you worked hard on it and because I’m your best friend.”

Susan wrapped her arm around his shoulders, not caring about the seven inches in height difference between them.

“But, as your best friend, I just have to tell you that your party _fucking sucks._ The food is terrible. The drinks are terrible. I don’t know who ‘The Machine’ is, but I hate him. But, _but_ …” Susan poked him hard in the shoulder. “You _don’t_ suck.”

Mark chuckled as Susan gripped his upper arm and blinked hard for a second to refocus herself after swaying. He leaned his head down lower and dropped his voice.

“How are you so drunk?” he asked, grinning. “You only got one drink ticket.”

“I pre-gamed, man,” Susan said as if it wasn’t even a question. “Yeah, I treated this just like every potentially disappointing party in college...I drank a bottle of wine first.”

Mark grinned even more broadly. He wrapped his arm around Susan and squeezed her to his side. 

“Did your roomie do that too?” he asked, pointing towards Kerry at a table across the room. “Because she looked like she might be a bit tipsy too.”

“Nah, she drank like half a glass of this stuff,” Susan said, referring to the wine glass in her hand. “She’s just a lightweight.”

Mark shook his head, though he still smiled. 

“Speaking of Kerry…” Susan pulled herself up to full height (or at least made a decent attempt). “Doug Ross bet me twenty bucks that I couldn’t get her to dance with me, which I most  _ definitely _ can, so, I’m gonna go dance with my girlfriend and get twenty dollars richer.”

Susan was too intoxicated to notice the way Mark’s face fell at her words. She just poked him in the shoulder again. 

“Anyways. I love you, you’re great, and your party sucks, but you don’t.”

And with that Susan turned back towards the party and made her way back to the table Kerry was sitting. He watched her walk all the way back, sit down, and say, “Kerry Weaver, how would you like to make me twenty dollars richer?” a bit louder than she probably intended to.

Mark tried his best to pull his attention away from her for the rest of the night and focus on the party, but his heart just wasn’t quite in it the same way.

Jerry kept him updated on the food situation. People complimented him (or offered him advice) on the party. He even led  drunk ER staff on a rousing conga line through the Shangri-Lodge.

He kept telling himself through the rest of the night that Susan had only meant the term “girlfriend” to mean “friend who is a girl” and that is couldn’t have possibly meant the other thing. But it was no use.

It was especially no use when he looked up and saw that Susan had successfully convinced Kerry to dance with her. They stood on the dance floor, Kerry looking bashful while Susan stuck her tongue out at Doug, who was watching them in shock. 

Maybe they were just really good friends. 

Mark sighed. 

But maybe not. 

 

Mark found Susan the next day on the helipad of all places. Or, more aptly, sitting against the wall opposite the helipad with her head in between her knees.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her blonde hair cascading over the legs of her pants, a cup of coffee forgotten on the ground in front of her.

He brushed some gravel from the ground and took a seat next to her.

“Rough night?”

Susan moaned in reply. Gingerly, she picked her head up. Her hair fell away from her face to reveal dark circles under her eyes. She blinked in the light of the morning sun.

“What possessed me to drink like a twenty-year-old?” she groaned, leaning her head back against the brick wall. “I haven’t felt this hungover since the day after I passed my boards.”

“What, you didn’t have fun?”

Susan picked her head up long enough to cast him a dark look before leaning her head back again and closing her eyes.

“It was fun until Suzie got up this morning,” she mumbled. “Then, it wasn’t so fun anymore.”

Mark chuckled. 

A cool breeze off the lake blew over them. It was almost too cold, but with the heat of the mid-April sun, it felt perfect.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

Susan shook her head very,  _ very _ slowly (because if she did so any faster, she’d probably throw up).

“Well,” Mark continued. “You… told me some things.”

“Oh… right,” she mumbled. “I think I told you that your party fucking sucked. I don’t usually disagree with drunk Susan, because drunk Susan is normally right, but in this case I’m going to contradict her. Your party was  _ fine _ . Not great, but I would go again.”

Mark smiled slightly as he looked out over the Chicago skyline. 

“You told me you were dating Kerry Weaver.”

Susan opened her eyes. She picked her head up and looked right at him.

“No, I didn’t.”

Mark did not reply. Susan buried her face in her hands. 

“Oh, God,” she mumbled, her voice muffled. “ _ Dammit. _ ”

“So… it’s true then?”

Susan pulled her hands down until her fingers were at her chin. Then they dropped into her lap. She nodded. 

“How long?”

“Last New Year’s.”

“Over a  _ year? _ ” Mark sighed. “Well, I guess that explains why you didn’t move out of her house even after we promoted you.”

“It didn’t start that way,” Susan said quickly. “I mean… that’s not why I moved in with her. It never meant to- to get here. But it did.”

“I didn’t know you liked women.”

“Not many people do.”

Mark was quiet for a long moment.

“I had thought that you and I...  That we had...Almost…”

“We did,” Susan replied. “Almost.”

“But if you like women, then how-”

“There is a ‘B’ in ‘LGBT’, Mark,” Susan said, raising an eyebrow.

Mark inclined his head in acknowledgement, but he still had the distinct look of dejection on his face.

“I don’t understand.”

“The acronym?” Susan glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Or the partner?”

Mark let out a sigh and turned to look at her.

“What do you see in her?”

It was clear in Mark’s tone that he was genuinely wanted to know and wasn’t saying it to be mean. Susan considered the question carefully.

“I guess I see everything that everyone else sees, just in a different light,” she thought aloud. “Like the way she gets so persnickety in traumas? I mean, it still drives me nuts in a trauma, but I see her do the same thing when she cooks. To her, doing every step perfectly… getting everything  _ right _ … it’s how she shows the person she’s cooking for that she cares. 

“And how gentle and attentive she is with her patients. I used to think it was some kind of incredible acting skill she possessed. Like she could pretend to care about her patients, but when she turned around, she was all business. But that’s not what it is at all,” Susan explained. “Because she’s like that with Suzie. And me too, sometimes. And with Jeanie and with you too.

“And there’s her passion too-”

“I don’t want to hear about that,” Mark said, his face scrunched up in disgust.

Susan rolled her eyes (still careful about not making herself nauseous) and nudged him playfully.

“That’s not what I  _ meant _ . God, get your head out of the gutter,” she said, smiling. “ _ No _ . I meant her care, you know? She… she’s passionate about things because she really cares about them. And...I don’t know. It’s just… it’s just…”

Susan inhaled deeply.

“It’s just… very nice to be one of the things she cares deeply about.”

Mark wanted to tell her just how deeply he cared about her. That he could do everything Kerry did and would go to great lengths to prove to her that she had more options than just one. 

But she said this is so simply, with such care of her own in her voice, that Mark knew that if he told her any of this, it would be out of selfishness. It would be taking something good away from her and trying to replace it with something else.

He loved Susan Lewis. And he might always love Susan Lewis. But if he knew anything, it was that this woman was his best friend in the world and he cared about her happiness more than anything else. 

So, he just smiled. 

“As long as you're happy,” he said, nodding. Then his expression turned serious. “And if you’re not, just know that I will always help you hide the body.”

“I’ll make a note of that,” she said, chuckling.

In the distance, she could see the little dot of a helicopter moving closer and closer. They’d need to get up and go soon if she didn’t want to be the one to deal with an incoming medevac trauma while incredibly hungover. 

Once again, Susan regretted drinking so much. But then she thought about the look on Doug Ross’ face when Kerry agreed to dance with her. How shy Kerry was to do so in front of her colleagues, but did it anyways because it seemed to mean so much to Susan (though, in all honesty, it meant a lot to Susan because she hadn’t brought her wallet and therefore would not have been able to pay Doug that twenty dollars if Kerry said no).

Susan sighed deeply and smiled. 

“But... I really don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend will lie to be nice. A good friend will tell sugercoat the truth, but still be honest. A best friend will tell you the honest truth from the beginning, do it while drunk, and do it with cursing. 
> 
> I've read a couple other Kerry/Susan fanfics and all of them either take place after Mark has died or Susan and Mark argue over Susan dating Kerry. But I don't like either of those things, so instead, we're going to have supportive friends who might be a little bit sad, but are still going to support each other.
> 
> I don't have much to say after this chapter, other than that it is important to me that Susan and Mark are friends. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. You guys are all great and I love writing this. 
> 
> Until next time.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains some offensive language.

By now, Lucy Knight was used to walking into the ER for her weekly clinic shifts. But when she walked into the ER in early August after having been off for several weeks for exams and break, it was like stepping into a different place. 

Well, sort of. The construction was still underway so it wasn’t  _ quite _ a new place yet. But it was certainly getting there. 

The admit desk seemed to be the only place that was spared from the construction, so she made a beeline for it. Fortunately, she did not make it there as Susan Lewis happened to be crossing her path at the same time.

Susan, who had been reading a chart, had only noticed her when the blonde med student skidded to a halt a second before walking into her.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lucy said, taking a deep breath. “You wouldn’t happen to be Dr. Carter, would you?”

“Nope. Lewis,” Susan replied. Then she added in a bright tone, “but I’m more than happy to pretend to be Dr. Carter until you find him.”

Then, Susan narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she observed Lucy. 

“Wait. I know you. You’re the med student from the clinic,” Susan said slowly. “I want to say you name is… Laura?”

“Lucy,” Lucy corrected. “Lucy Knight.”

“ _ Lucy _ ,” Susan repeated, clenching her fist. “Well, I was close. And Kerry-  _ Dr. Weaver _ only ever refers to you as ‘Ms. Knight’, so…”

“Is Dr. Weaver here?”

“Yeah, she’s around here somewhere,” Susan said, waving in the direction of the trauma rooms. “We can go find her- wait, watch out.”

Susan pulled Lucy out of the way as a construction worker passed by, the stack of two-by-fours he carried over his shoulder crossing directly over the place Lucy’s head had been a moment before.

“Thanks,” Lucy said. She looked around. “What’s going on?”

“Growth,” Susan replied in her best, snootiest, most administrative voice. “The plans were approved for our new pediatric trauma center. Doug Ross, the pediatric emergency fel- Nope. He’s an attending… Doug Ross, our pediatric emergency  _ attending _ , went to this trauma conference in May and came back with all these ideas and plans. We weren’t  _ supposed _ to start all this until at least September, but stuff started moving forward.”

“So… where’s the clinic?” Lucy asked, staring at the remnants of a wall to the exam room where the clinic had been housed.

“See that building over there?” Susan said, pointing out the ambulance bay doors. 

“The diner?”

“No. Across from the diner. The one that looks like an office? In July, they moved all the clinic stuff over there. Apparently it’s a bigger space and has a better waiting area, but is still close to the hospital.” She glanced at Lucy out of the corner of her eye. “Nobody told you this at the clinic?”

“The Steering Committee took a break,” Lucy explained, standing on her toes to get a better view of the building Susan had pointed out across the way. “Summer vacation and all that.”

Susan nodded and glanced around before looking down at her watch. 

“Well,” she announced, “since I have no idea where Dr. Carter is, how about you and I go find some blood and guts, huh?”

Lucy looked back at Susan, uncertainty etched deep on her face. Susan just smiled. 

“I’m kidding,” Susan said, clapping Lucy on the shoulder and turning her in the direction of the trauma room. “Well… _sort_ _of_.”

Unbeknownst to Susan, Lucy’s eyes got wider every step they took in the direction of the trauma room. 

She hung back as Susan stepped forward into the trauma room where an unconscious patient with a bloody shirt wrapped around his leg lay on the trauma table.

“Good morning, everyone,” Susan greeted. “Kerry. Mark. Mark’s goatee.”

Mark rolled his eyes. 

“Do you have to greet it  _ every _ morning?”

“I gave you three months without comment,” Susan said simply. “And it’s still here.”

“Children,” Kerry said, albeit distractedly, “play nice.”

“Yeah, Susan,” Mark added. “Play nice.”

It was Susan’s turn to roll her eyes. She grabbed a pair of gloves and pulled them on as she looked down at the wound on the man’s leg.

“Eek. What have we got here?”

“21-year-old auto versus pedestrian,” Kerry said, holding up an x-ray to the light. “With one hell of a tib-fib.”

As she lowered the x-ray, she noticed Lucy Knight standing in the doorway to the trauma room. She blinked. 

“Ms. Knight, what are you doing here?”

“I start my ER rotation today,” Lucy replied, though she continued to stare at the trauma table. 

“Oh, yeah. Come on,” Susan said, waving her in. “Mark, this is Lucy Knight. She’s our new med student. She’s worked with Kerry in the clinic.”

“Ah. So, you’ve got a bit of experience then.”

“A little,” Lucy said, nodding. 

“She’s assigned to Dr. Carter, but seeing as we didn’t know where he was, I’m pretending to be Dr. Carter for the time being.”

“Kind of hard to do without immense family wealth and his boyish good looks,” Mark commented, “but a decent substitute, I guess.”

Susan shrugged in acknowledgement and turned to Lucy. 

 “Can you tell me what the first thing you should look for in a compound fracture of the tibia and fibula?”

“Uh… a pedal pulse?” Lucy replied hesitantly.

“Perfect. Grab a pair of gloves and see if you can find one.”

Lucy nodded and started for the gloves. 

“Well, you know what they say about too many cooks…” Kerry looked from Mark to Susan. “I have a call with the billing department in five minutes. I take it you to have this?”

“Yep.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Wonderful,” Kerry said, taking her own gloves off. “If you’ll excuse me. Ms. Knight, welcome aboard. If you have any questions or concerns, you’re more than welcome to find any one of us.”

And with that, Kerry stepped around Susan and started for the door.

“Have fun,” Susan said as she passed. 

“Seeing as it’s probably my last one, I intend to,” Kerry said dryly.

Once out of earshot, Mark snickered. Susan, who was standing opposite him across the trauma table, shot him a look.

“Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.”

“I thought she was kidding,” Mark said, surprised at Susan’s reaction. “Wait… she really thinks it’s her last one?”

“Uh… yes? The search committee told her they’d let her know in a week and it’s been three. Plus you guys brought that New York guy in for a second interview and  _ she _ didn’t get a second interview. She says she can see the writing on the wall.”

Lucy looked up from her place at the foot of the table and the patient.

“Interview for what?”

“We’re looking for a new Chief of Emergency Services,” Susan replied. “Have you found the pulse yet?”

“Yeah. It’s weak, but it’s there,” Lucy answered. “I thought Dr. Weaver was the Chief of Emergency Services…”

“She’s the  _ Acting _ Chief of Emergency Services…” Susan replied. Then she frowned. “Or was it Interim? Honestly, I don’t know where we landed on the whole title thing.”

Before Lucy could ask any further follow up questions, a good-looking white doctor came in.

“Good morning,” Carter said, as he himself started for a pair of gloves.

“Carter! Glad you’re here. I have a present for you. Have a med student.” Susan motioned to Lucy and then to Carter. “John Carter, Lucy Knight. Lucy Knight, John Carter, though we all like to pretend his first name doesn’t exist.”

Carter and Lucy exchanged greetings for a moment before Carter turned to Susan.

“So, you need me here?”

“Nope. Go orient your med student.”

“Are you sure bec-”

“There’s two attendings here and you were late,” Susan said, with a dangerous smile on her face. “Go orient your med student. And do not make me ask you again.”

Carter knew better than to argue, so he led Lucy out of the trauma room and down the hall. 

Mark watched them for a moment before looking back to Susan and raising an eyebrow.

“That was a little mean, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But I’m in a bit of a bitchy mood,” Susan explained. She scribbled something on the chart. “Kerry is trying to not to show how hurt she is here, but she’s  _ crushed _ . So, I’m being bitchy on her behalf.”

Mark nodded. He gave Lydia instructions to page surgery before he and Susan carefully removed the bloody splint from the man’s leg to better observe the injury. 

“Truth is the search committee hadn’t made a choice yet. That’s why we hadn’t called,” Mark explained. “We  _ did _ bring the New York guy back for a second interview, but that was mostly because he went to med school with one of the Board members. We met again last night and decided he really wasn’t any more impressive the second time around. So we went with our first choice.”

Mark glanced up at Susan.

“So… you want to be the one to tell her?”

Susan let out a deep sigh and peeled her gloves off. 

“If I have to.”

Mark straightened up and frowned. 

“What do you mean ‘if you have to’?”

“I mean… If it has to be bad news, I’d like to be there to comfort her. But I don’t necessarily want to  _ give _ it to her.”

Mark blinked for a second in confusion. Then, he chuckled, which of course made Susan look at him, her brow furrowed.

“Susan, it’s not bad news,” he said, smirking. “ _ Kerry _ is our first choice.”

Susan’s eyes grew wide. 

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Mark said, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure she was Anspaugh’s  _ only _ choice. But we still had to go through the whole selection process anyway.”

He glanced up at the clock.

“He should be down here any minute to make the announcement.” He raised an eyebrow in Susan’s direction. “So? You want to be the one who tells her?”

“Yes,” Susan replied enthusiastically. “Can I? For real?”

Mark shrugged. 

“I don’t see why not.”

Susan thanked him profusely the entire time it took her to finish removing her gloves and run out into the hall before she disappeared behind a passing group of patients and into the department.

 

Kerry straightened her papers on the table in the lounge and pulled the phone closer to her. She checked the conference line scrawled atop the closest paper and prepared to dial it just as the door opened.

“Dr. Weaver, can you please talk to this patient?”

Maggie Doyle held out a chart in her direction.

“Maggie, I’m about to make a-”

“I know, and I’m sorry to interrupt,” Maggie said, cutting her off. “But this kid has a really bad dog bite on her leg, but her dad won’t let me anywhere near it. Says I ‘don’t look right’. Whatever that means.”

“Can’t you find Dr. Ross? I really need to make this phone call.”

“He’s in with another patient and can’t leave,” Maggie explained. She heaved a sigh. “Please?”

Kerry wanted to tell her off, or at least tell her to just wait until after she had her call, but that required energy she just didn’t have right now. 

“Alright. Fine,” she said, sliding her chair back. “But will you please page Sherryl Rodgers in billing and tell her I can call her at 2:30 pm instead of 2 pm?”

“Sure,” Maggie said, nodding. She handed Kerry the chart. “Thank you so much. And… I’m sorry in advance if he says… anything to you. I mean, I know you’re not, you know… But hey I didn’t say anything either...”

Maggie raised her eyebrows as if to make her point. 

“Thanks,” Kerry muttered. 

Just what she needed right now. An angry, potentially offensive parent keeping the physicians from helping their kid.

She made her way to Exam Three where she found not just the patient, a little girl of maybe seven or eight, but her father, a scruffy-looking white man twice Kerry’s size, and what must be the girl’s mother, a faded white woman with frizzy brown hair.

“You in charge?” he asked the moment Kerry appeared with the chart.

“Yes, sir. My name is Dr. Weaver and-”

“I don’t care who you are,” the man snapped. “I want someone to look at this bite my girl’s got on her leg. And I didn’t like that other doctor.”

“I see,” Kerry said. She was doing her best not to sound tired, but this man was starting to grate on her already-frayed nerves. “I can take a look at-”

“I don’t want no woman doctor,” the man said sternly. “Don’t you have any men in this department?”

It took a great deal of Kerry’s energy and professionalism not to roll her eyes obviously in the man’s direction.

“Yes, we do,” she replied. “But they are all busy at the moment, so either I can take a look at it now or you can wait until one is available.”

The man sneered in her direction.

“We’ll wait.”

Kerry nodded. 

“Alright. I will let one of our male doctors know.”

The man let out a grunt of acknowledgement. 

Just outside the door to Exam One, Kerry caught Carter by the arm. She shoved the chart into his hand unceremoniously.

“Dog bite in One,” she stated. “They want a male doctor.”

“Okay,” Carter said slowly. “It may be a while though. I’m showing Lucy around.”

“That’s fine,” she said flatly, waving him away. “Take your time.”

Carter nodded and Kerry passed him on her way to the bathroom. 

When she got there, for a moment all she could do was look in the mirror.

God, she looked tired. 

There were dark circles under her eyes from the late nights she had been spending coordinating the various construction projects on the emergency department. Not to mention the pediatric trauma center, which she was not  _ supposed _ to be working on, but didn’t necessarily trust Doug Ross to handle all on his own. 

She ran a hand through her hair, which took all of two seconds.

Susan liked to say that every time she got blonder, Kerry’s hair got shorter, and Kerry couldn’t help but agree. Kerry’s hair was the shortest it ever had been and Susan’s hair, which had been a dirty blonde when she had moved in, was now completely blonde.

The door to the bathroom flung open. 

In stumbled Susan herself, breathing hard as if she had just run a marathon.

Kerry frowned.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I just… ran… the entire way… around the department…” Susan said in between big, gasping breaths. She put her hands on her hips and breathed deeply. “Carol said… she saw you… come in here…”

“What were you doing looking for me?” 

Susan grinned broadly. But before she answered, she grabbed Kerry by the hand and pulled her into the large handicap accessible stall.

“What are you-”

“Anspaugh is on his way down here to announce the new Chief of Emergency Services,” Susan said, her voice low though she was still breathing heavily. Her face broke out into a huge grin. “And it’s you.”

Kerry’s eyes grew wide just as Susan’s had when Mark had told her.

“You’re… you’re serious?”

“Of course,” Susan said, nodded emphatically. “I would never joke about this.”

Kerry just stood, frozen in shock for a moment. Then, relief flooded through every part of her. She let out a deep breath, which made Susan smile all the more.

“Mark told me, so I wanted to let you know before they got down here,” Susan whispered. “ _ And  _ so I could be the first person to kiss the new Chief of Emergency Services.”

“I think you’re going to be the  _ only _ person kissing the new Chief of Emergency Services,” Kerry said, chuckling. 

“Well…” Susan slid the lock shut on the stall. “I’m still going to be first.”

 

They stood in the stall for what seemed like an eternity..

It started with kissing passionately, something neither of them had ever done at work together. Though, in the heat of the moment and the safety of the stall, there was no reason not to. 

And even so, who cared? Kerry was in charge now.  _ Officially _ . 

When they finally pulled apart, Kerry just wrapped their arms around Susan. They stood their holding each other for a long time until Kerry finally came to the conclusion that they should leave or else they’d arouse suspicion. 

They left separately, first Kerry, and then Susan a few minutes later.

When Susan stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting her ponytail as if it had been any ordinary trip into the bathroom, she spotted Kerry at the admit desk, already back at work. Susan couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. She half-hoped Kerry might spot her out of the corner of her eye so Susan could raise an eyebrow at her and make her blush. 

But Kerry was focused on the chart in her hand, so Susan just took a second and leaned against the wall. She breathed in deeply and looked out over the scene. 

Nurses chatted as they restocked supplies. A bunch of doctors in green scrubs, white coats, or a combination thereof huddled around the admit desk. Carter stood outside an exam room talking to a big, beefy guy while Lucy listened from a few feet away.

Something brushed Susan’s arm.

A mousy looking woman with frizzy hair had come from around the corner. Susan watched her walk by, all the way back to the big, beefy guy. 

The woman leaned over to the man and whispered something, covering her mouth with her hand before pointing towards the admit desk. 

“She  _ WHAT? _ ”

What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion. 

The man pushed Carter away. He stumbled backwards into Lucy, who caught him before he hit the ground, as the man rushed towards the desk.

In the direction of Kerry.

Before he could reach her, or the desk itself, Mark and Doug both rose from where they leaned against the desk the chatting and put themselves between the patient and the desk. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, lady?”

Kerry, who had looked up at the sound of the man’s first shout, stared at him in confusion and fear.

Mark raised a hand to the man.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“My wife said that  _ she _ -” the man pointed at Kerry “-was in the bathroom making out with another woman.”

Those in the vicinity, including Susan, though she was several feet away, all looked at the short redhead. 

“I… I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kerry said as firmly as she could when her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she could barely breathe. 

“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb,” the man roared. “She said she knew it was you ‘cuz she saw your cane thing under the door.”

The man, who was a few inches taller than even six-foot-two Mark Greene, looked down at him.

“What kind of hospital you running where you let homosexuals like work here? And  with children too,” the man said. He looked over all those gathered at the desk. “You’re all going to hell. But especially her.””

Mark opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Doug stepped forwards towards the man and put a restraining hand on his chest.

“Listen buddy. Dr. Weaver would never do anything to put your kid in harm’s way and would never,  _ ever  _ do anything to them herself,” he said in a low, almost dangerous voice. “But if you want your daughter looked at by someone else, I’m the pediatric attending. I can take a look at her-”

“No,” the man said, pushing Doug aside and leaving Mark and a desk that suddenly looked very weak in between Kerry and the big brute. “I ain’t letting my daughter get looked at by anyone at a hospital that would hire crippled dykes like her. Come on Sally. We’re leaving.”

The entire crowd watched in stunned silence as the man grabbed both his wife and daughter roughly by the hand and dragged them out of the ambulance bay doors. 

Once everyone was sure that they were gone and posed no more danger to anyone in the vicinity, they turned their stunned shock to Kerry, who was, at this moment, staring wide-eyed at the door. 

“Was… was that true?” Doug said in a low voice. “Were you really kissing another woman in the bathroom?”

The intensity of everyone staring at her seemed to suck every last bit of air from the room. 

She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t  _ breathe _ . 

She looked to Mark for some kind of reassurance or, God,  _ something _ . After all, he already knew. Susan had told him and had, as requested, kept it quiet as they had. 

But he just looked at her, his face neutral. 

Closing her eyes for a moment in an effort to regain at least an ounce of composure, she managed to take a deep breath. But when she opened her eyes, ready to say something and save face, she saw them.

Donald Anspaugh, who had been standing there watching the scene unfold, right next to Charles Pfleagerman, Board member and chair of the Search Committee. 

Pfleagerman, a tall, skinny white man with curly black hair and a soul-patch goatee, leaned over to Anspaugh and said something into his ear. Anspaugh’s jaw tightened and he took a visible breath before he and Pfleagerman turned around and started back in the direction of the elevators. 

Any words Kerry might have had ready to defend herself dissipated in an instant as did any of the happiness and relief she had felt about the prospect of being named Chief of Emergency Services. 

Remembering everyone was staring at her and waiting for her answer, she looked back to them. Their gaze seemed to have strengthened even more, each passing second boring into her. 

She couldn’t stay here. She needed to leave. 

And she did. 

Muttering something unintelligible about ‘patients’ and ‘work to do’, she nudged by Mark and escaped into the bowels of the ER.

Susan watched this and took off after her, but Kerry could be very fast when she wanted to be. 

It took ten minutes for Susan to find her, sitting in a darkened exam room that had been closed during construction.

At the sound of the door closing behind Susan, Kerry jumped. 

“Oh,” she said, breathing deeply to try and get ahold of herself. “It’s you… I thought…”

Her voice was low and gravelly, so much unlike her usual tone, that Susan knew Kerry had to have been crying. And if Susan didn’t already know why, Kerry’s words would have explained the rest.

“They’re not going to give me the job.”

“They told you that?” 

“They didn’t have to.” Kerry pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment in an effort to fight back the tears. She inhaled deeply. “Anspaugh was there. They saw it. And then they left.”

Susan took a seat on the bed opposite her.

“Kerry, I am so sor-”

“No,” Kerry interrupted, cutting Susan off. “Don’t apologize.”

“But if I hadn’t kissed you-”

“Susan, if I didn’t want you to have kissed me, I would have stopped you,” Kerry said firmly. 

“Yeah, but it’s still my-”

“No, it is _ not.  _ It’s mine,” Kerry snapped. “I let you kiss me. Because I wanted you to kiss me. Because… because I didn’t care.”

Kerry thought back to the thoughts that had rushed through her head while Susan had been kissing and almost let out a hiccuping-laugh. 

She hadn’t cared. At that moment, she had had everything she could possibly want and couldn’t give a fuck as to what the world thought or said about her. 

God, she could be so fucking stupid sometimes.

“I’d… I’d like to be alone,” Kerry said in a voice so low that Susan had to strain to hear it. “If you don’t mind.”

Susan  _ did _ mind. A lot, actually. But she squeezed Kerry’s hand and rose nonetheless.

She paused at the doorway, kicking a couple pieces of drywall with her foot distractedly.

“Well, whether you accept it or not, I’m still sorry.”

There was no reply, so Susan just sighed and closed the door. 

But right before the door snapped shut, she could hear a very small voice whisper into the darkness.

“Yeah. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of things to say about this chapter, but I am going to withold my commentary until after the next chapter. 
> 
> I know it means I'm going to leave you hanging a little bit, and for that I apologize, but a twenty-minute break from my homework turned into an entire hour. I really need to finish this essay,  _but_ I promise that I will have the next part for you as soon as I can. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. Have a great rest of your day and weekend. 
> 
> Until next time.
> 
>  


	23. Chapter 23

Kerry stared at the door to Anspaugh’s office from her seat on the bench across the hall.

She thought back to a few weeks ago when she had been waiting in a seat much like this outside of the conference room where the Search Committee waited to interview her. 

She hadn’t been nervous then. At least, she hadn’t  _ felt _ nervous then. 

There was no shaking, no sweating, no racing thoughts. Just deep breathing and the assurance that she was going to do her best and that was all that mattered. 

How different today was. 

Today, she felt flighty. Like she wanted to run away and hide and never show her face at County again. But she wouldn’t. 

“Dr. Weaver?”

Kerry looked up to see Charles Pfleagerman holding the door to Anspaugh’s office open. 

She stood up and he waved her inside. 

Anspaugh was seated at a table off to the side of his office. Pfleagerman took a seat next to him and motioned for Kerry to take the seat opposite. 

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” Kerry said.

She loosened her arm from the cuff of the crutch. Typically, she would have set it side while they talked, but she didn’t today, preferring instead to keep it close like a security blanket. 

“Of course,” Anspaugh replied. “We were going to reach out to you, but you beat us to it.”

Kerry nodded.

“Doubtless you’ve already heard why we came down to the emergency department yesterday,” Pfleagerman said, lacing his fingers together on the table. 

Should she play dumb? She considered it. Maybe if she pretended that she didn’t know why they were there, it would serve her better. But, given that it was  _ her _ who called the meeting, they had to know that she knew.

“Yes, sir.”

“Dr. Weaver, the Search Committee and the Board of Directors both feel that you are the best candidate to fill the Chief of Emergency Services position.”

There was a pregnant pause. Kerry wasn’t sure if she was supposed to respond to that or not, especially given the fact that the unspoken “but” seemed to hang in the air.

“Th… thank you, sir.”

“ _ However _ ,” Pfleagerman continued, much to Kerry’s chagrin, “given the…  _ events _ of yesterday morning, we are reconsidering this.”

“Which I think is ridiculous,” Anspaugh cut in angrily. “Charles, I told you, if we were going to give her the job yesterday, we should give her the job today. Nothing has changed.”

“ _A_ _lot_ has changed, Donald.”

“I meant nothing that affects her ability to run the emergency department.”

“The Board understands that. But we are not sure that… that this is the type of thing that we want the public to know.” 

Yeah, Kerry was pretty damn sure about that too.

“You wanted the best candidate and you got her,” Anspaugh asserted, continuing the conversation as if Kerry wasn’t even there. “I formally recommend that you all just suck it up.”

It was impressive that Anspaugh didn’t seem at all affected by the look of daggers Pfleagerman was currently shooting him across the table.

Not interested in being talked about as if she wasn’t sitting right there and could hear every word, Kerry took a deep breath.

“Dr. Pfleagerman…” she began in her best calm, controlled tone. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can, Kerry,” Anspaugh answered on Pfleagerman’s behalf.

“ _ Donald _ ,” Pfleagerman said warningly. 

“Oh, shut up, Chuck. Go ahead, Kerry.”

Kerry considered her words carefully, just as she had done nearly every second since Anspaugh approved the meeting.

“Dr. Pfleagerman, would the Board refuse me this position on the basis of my disability?”

Pfleagerman’s eyebrows rose so quickly they threatened to fly off his face.

“Of-of course not,” he said quickly, looking from Anspaugh to Kerry. “In addition to being part of a protected class, as the Board understands it, your- it does not your ability to do your job or your interactions with patients.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.” 

Kerry’s words, though practiced, took a lot of effort to speak aloud. The intense pounding in her chest definitely did not help.

“Every couple months, I get a patient or a patient’s family that tells me that they do not want me to be their doctor. They tell me it is because they don’t want a ‘handicapped’ doctor or a ‘crippled’ doctor or, as one gentleman so nicely put it, a ‘gimp’ doctor.

“And most of the time that this happens, my response is along the lines of ‘well, tough luck, because I’m the one who is shoving this tube inside your chest to help you breathe’. But, when that is not the case, and though it bothers me to admit it… I will hand them off to another physician. Because even though doing so goes against my values, the truth is that it will make them more comfortable and it will make me more comfortable.”

Kerry paused and took a moment to breathe. She seemed to be the only one doing so, as both Anspaugh and Pfleagerman were listening with rapt attention, trying to figure out where she was going with this. 

“ _ But _ ,” she began, her mouth twitching into a smile, “ _ more often _ than that, I have disabled patients or the parents of disabled children who are thrilled that I am their doctor. 

“It’s the same reason that a female patient may be more comfortable with a female doctor or a black patient might be more comfortable with a black doctor. When you are part of a group that traditionally has not been treated very well,  _ especially  _ in a medical setting, when the person taking care of you  _ looks  _ like you, then you feel that they will take better care of you.”

Kerry folded her hands on the table in front of her.

“If the Board chooses to give me this job, there will inevitably be people who are upset. And, when given the choice, they will not choose to come to County.  _ But _ , I think that there will be many more people who will see this choice, and, as a very wise person I know once said, they will be happy. They will see this and say, ‘ _ that _ is the hospital I want to go to, because if I go there, they will take good care of me.’

“If I go there… I will be safe.”

The words almost caught in her throat as she was nearly overwhelmed by emotion while expressing this out loud.

“And the last thing that anyone should have to worry about when seeking emergency medical care is whether or not they will be respected when they get there.”

Though neither Anspaugh nor Pfleagerman said anything for a long moment, it was clear they were both thinking very different things.

Anspaugh sat back in his chair, his arms folded but his overall body language relaxed. Pfleagerman, though, sat forward in his chair, his brow furrowed as he carefully considered his next words. 

“Dr. Weaver,” he said slowly, “this… this reconsideration...It-it’s nothing against  _ you _ -”

“But it is,” Kerry said, interrupting him without forethought nor regret.

“ _ No _ ,” he repeated firmly. “It is  _ not _ . It is about-”

“Me. It’s about me,” Kerry finished for him.

She sat up straighter, her emotions channeling into her usual fire. 

“You can say that you don’t agree with my lifestyle or my choices or whatever cop out you want to use, but the fact is, you don’t like that I’m gay. But I am. I am gay. I am a lesbian. It- it is a fact. It’s as much a part of me as-as my disability or my hair or anything. It is part of me and if you don’t like that, you don’t like me.

“And to that I will tell you, with the  _ utmost _ sincerity, that that does not matter. I have never been in this position to be liked and you can ask anyone in the emergency department and they will tell you: you don’t have to like me to know that I am going to do my job, and I am going to do it well. And I am going to make sure that everyone around me does their jobs well too.”

Though Kerry was too focused on Pfleagerman to notice, Anspaugh was almost smiling by now. 

_ This _ was the Kerry Weaver he had pushed so hard for in the Search Committee meetings.

Though Kerry didn’t notice Anspaugh, she  _ did _ notice how forceful she had become in just the past few minutes and made a conscious decision to sit back and breathe. 

Pfleagerman looked from Kerry to Anspaush and back, but said nothing (though it was clear he wanted to say more). 

Kerry glanced up at the clock. It was 9:41 am. 

Though the first thing she probably  _ should  _ have thought about was how little time had passed since she had walked into the room. Instead, the first thing she thought about was Rochelle.

Rochelle would be in class this morning from 9:30 am to 11:30 am. Later, she was going to pick up Suzie from daycare and the pair were going to go to the Children’s Museum at Navy Pier. Suzie had not been able to talk about anything else for a week. Hopefully, Susan had remembered to give Rochelle the envelope with the money and the coupons. 

Suddenly, and without warning, Kerry was overcome with calm.

She looked back to the two men in front of her. And, to Pfleagerman’s great concern, she smirked.

“I don’t want to take up too much more of your time,” Kerry said simply, “so let me close with this.

“I am of the same opinion as Dr. Anspaugh. If you were going to give me the job yesterday, you should give me the job today. The only thing that has changed is that you know just a  _ little _ bit more about my personal life. A personal life I have and will continue to keep just that: personal.”

She sat up straight in her chair.

“I will support whatever decision the Board makes. And while I hope it is in my favor, I will understand if it is not. But regardless of what choice you make… it will not change anything.

“I am still going to do my job and do my best to take care of the patients that come here. And at the end of the day, I am going to go home to my wife and to my daughter. And…” Kerry took a deep breath. “And I am going to be happy. Happier than I have been in a very long time.

“Now,” she said with finality, “if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back downstairs. I have patients waiting.”

As she gathered her things and stood up, she waited for one of the men to say something. 

Pfleagerman, who had expected pleading and negotiation and a woman desperate to get the job at all costs, just sat there. 

Anspaugh just winked.

 

There were only a few patients in the ER this morning and Susan was actually kind of pissed off about it. 

Under normal circumstances, she would be delighted by a Thursday morning without the mess and noise of a hundred patients waiting to be seen. But today, the quiet was driving her crazy.

Having already stocked and restocked both trauma rooms, the drug cabinet, and two exam rooms, she had taken to pacing back and forth between the admit desk and the elevator. (By Mark’s count, she had checked the elevator twenty-two times in the last fifteen minutes.)

Finally, she decided she needed a cup of (what passed for) coffee, and excused herself to the lounge. 

Lydia, Lily, and Yosh were sitting on the couch opposite Malik, who was sitting at the table.

“Hey, Dr. Lewis. You want in?” Lydia asked when Susan entered.

Susan looked at the empty coffee carafe and scowled. She yanked open the cabinet door to observe her choices from Randi’s coffee stash.

“In on what?” she replied absently.

“On the pool.”

“We’re taking bets on who Dr. Weaver was kissing in the bathroom,” Malik informed her. “Pool’s up to $127.” 

Susan turned towards them slowly. 

“That is  _ incredibly _ inappropriate.”

The nurses looked at her for a moment to gauge how serious she was, and must have decided that she wasn’t (or at least wasn’t much of a threat) because they just shrugged and continued their conversation.

“My money’s on Maggie Doyle,” Lydia said, smirking.

“And I told you. I was  _ talking _ to Maggie Doyle while it happened,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “. I’m telling you. It was Jeanie Boulet.”

“Oh please.” Yosh waved her away. “Jeanie’s straight as an arrow.”

“Yeah, but have you seen how Dr. Weaver looks at her?”

“This is quite possibly the single most  _ unprofessional  _ conversation I have ever heard any of you have,” Susan said. “Get back to work.”

“We don’t have any work,” Malik replied. 

“ _ Then I’ll find you work, _ ” Susan hissed. “Now, drop this. And do not let me catch you talking about it again.”

And, without coffee and in a worse mood than she had entered, Susan left back out the door of the lounge.

Impulsively, she turned in the direction of the elevator. 

God must have been tired of Susan’s constant back and forth, because She decided that this time Kerry would actually be there.

And, to Susan’s relief, she seemed to be in good spirits.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So, what’s the word upstairs?” Susan asked nervously.

“I… I don’t know,” Kerry said with a shrug. “But I don’t care.”

Susan blinked. A few times. Because  _ surely  _ she hadn’t heard that right.

“You… don’t care?”

“Nope. I don’t care.”

“Kerry, you practiced your interview responses under your breath for three whole days before they interviewed you. You made  _ graphs _ .” Susan stared at her in confused disbelief. “How could you not care?”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Kerry replied. She took Susan’s hand and squeezed it. “Whether or not I get the job, it doesn’t matter, because I have you.”

Susan’s eye twitched. 

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Can… can I record you saying that? Just in case you get mad later?”

“I’m not going to get mad,” Kerry said, chuckling. “I’m serious.”

“ _ Okay _ ,” Susan said defensively. She raised an eyebrow. “But I’m holding you to that.”

Kerry squeezed Susan’s hand once more and then released it. 

“So that’s the word upstairs…” Kerry took a deep breath. “What’s the word down here?”

Susan shrugged. 

“A lot of stunned surprise,  a couple ‘I had a feelings’, and the nurses are taking bets as to who you were kissing,” Susan listed off. 

“So, all in all… pretty much normal.”

“Yeah, pretty much.  _ And _ , before you ask, yes, I did tell the nurses off,” Susan informed her. Then, she sighed. “I should have just told them.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but…” Susan rolled her eyes. “I-I feel bad about it. That you got outed and I didn’t. Especially since it was my idea to kiss you.”

“I told you that wasn’t your fault.”

“But it still  _ feels  _ like my fault.”

It was Kerry’s turn to roll her eyes. 

“Come on. We should get back to work.”

Susan was tempted to tell her that there wasn’t really any work to get back to, but the elevator doors behind them opened and out walked Dr. Anspaugh.

“Ah. Dr. Weaver. Dr. Lewis,” he greeted, inclining his head at both of them. “I’m heading towards the admit desk. Care to join me?”

Susan and Kerry exchanged the briefest of looks before they nodded and followed him. Neither said anything as they did so, but they couldn’t help the way their hearts started beating hard and the inexplicable urge to grasp the other’s hand. 

Once at the admit desk, they both hung back, doing their best to seem casual. 

“If you’ll all gather round, I have an announcement to make.”

Susan glanced at Kerry out of the corner of her eye. 

She appeared very calm, though Susan could see her knuckles were white from gripping her crutch so tightly. 

“As you all know,” Anspaugh began once a majority of the ER staff had joined them, “the Board of Directors has been searching for a new Chief of Emergency Services since Dr. Morgenstern’s departure. We performed a national search and met with some of the brightest talent from across the country in our search to find someone to lead our emergency department into the new millennium. And it is my greatest pleasure to say that the best person we could find was already leading the department.”

Anspaugh turned towards Kerry, his grandfatherly smirk on his face. 

“I’m pleased to announce that our new Chief of Emergency Services will be Dr. Kerry Weaver.”

There was a smattering of applause from the surrounding crowd. Even from Doug Ross, with whom Kerry had been getting along  _ much _ better with since approving and expanding his pediatric trauma proposal. 

But Kerry didn’t really notice. Honestly, she had forgotten to breathe. At least until the moment that Anspaugh approached her to shake her hand. 

“I have to say, I have never seen anyone so eloquently silence Charles Pfleagerman before,” he said as he shook her hand, dropping his voice so low that only Kerry could hear him. “I may have to consult you before the next Board meeting.”

When Kerry smiled, his brow rose.

“Make me proud.”

“I will, sir.”

He winked again and released her hand, allowing Mark, Carter, and several others to take their turn in congratulating her. 

Susan waited patiently for her turn, which, by the time it arrived, Anspaugh had already bade them good day and returned upstairs. 

“Congratulations,” Susan said as she Kerry was freed up by the latest well-wisher and Susan had her chance to approach her.

“Thank you.”

“How do you feel?”

“I… Well, honestly, all I can think is ‘oh, thank God, oh, thank God’.”

Susan playfully pinched Kerry’s arm.

“I  _ knew  _ you cared.”

Kerry rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling.  

Then, Susan was struck with an idea. She turned to where the nurses stood casually a few feet away.

“Hey. You guys.”

The nurses turned, eyebrows raised, just in time to see Susan turn back to Kerry and kiss her squarely on the lips.  

They remained like that for a moment as Susan kissed her congratulations, before they broke apart and Susan spun back to the nurses. 

“There. Now you know who Dr. Weaver was kissing in the bathroom. So,  _ get back to work _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I watched the episode in which Kerry was outed, I was terrified. 
> 
> Even though I knew it was fiction, even though I knew the show had come out years ago, it scared me. Because coming out is one of the most terrifying things someone can do and being outed, especially if front of peers or colleagues where you don't know how they'll react, is even worse. I was raised in a very open and welcoming family who continues to be so even after coming out to them as bisexual, and it still frightened the hell out of me to do so.
> 
> Given that this chaper takes place in 1998, this could have cost Kerry her job. Hell, it could have cost her job in Seasons 7 and 8 just a few years later. And though I know this and strive to keep things accurate to life, in this case, it's my AU, so homophobia can suck it. 
> 
> Anyways, I've got another chapter to post, so I'll leave this here for now. As always, thank you for reading. 
> 
> (I'd say until next time, but next time will be just about the amount of time it takes me to post this and copy the next chapter off of Google Docs. A.k.a... ten minutes. Give or take.)


	24. Chapter 24

Kerry could chalk up her early morning kitchen cleaning to many things: Circadian rhythms, years of self-discipline, a certain preschooler with a propensity for making “potions” out of baking soda and vinegar.

But the truth was that she just felt far too good to stay in bed. 

Not that it wasn’t a hard decision. She had, as she usually did when their schedules allowed, awakened tucked into Susan’s arms. And though that, plus the draw of her pillow, were  _ incredibly _ tempting, she had felt refreshed and alert and knew that it should be put to use.

So, that was why she was wiping down the counter at 8:45 am in a Case Western Spartans t-shirt, athletic shorts that belonged to Susan, and a pair of rainbow striped socks gifted to her by one Maggie Doyle on the occasion of officially coming out. And, though she had a self-imposed rule not to wear socks on non-carpeted floors (for safety reasons), she figured that she would never wear them to work and might as well wear them at home.

She was out. She was out and she still had a job. No, she had  _ the _ job. The one she had been working towards for months,  _ years _ even. 

And she had Susan.

Susan.

Susan Meredith Lewis, who had revealed her middle name to Kerry only when she had sworn not to tell anyone under penalty of death. Who had taken in her niece and raised her as her daughter. Who was so beautiful that Kerry often wondered how and why she had gotten so lucky to be able to call her hers.

Susan, who was a constant, consistent force in her life. Who surprised her often, but who was yet still very predictable...

“How would you feel about taking in a homeless child?”

Kerry spun around so fast that, had she not remembered at the last second that she was wearing socks and quickly grabbed the counter, she  _ definitely _ would have slipped and fallen on her ass. 

“ _ What?” _

“Okay,” Susan acknowledged, taking a seat at the kitchen island and stretching. “He’s not a child; he’s a resident. But he  _ is  _ homeless.”

Kerry stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to continue. 

She didn’t.

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“ _ Carter _ ,” Susan said in a voice that was almost a whine. “Did you hear about Halloween?”

“No.”

“Alright. Well, did you hear about the whole thing with him and his family?”

“No.”

“ _ God, _ ” Susan scoffed. “Did you at  _ least _   hear about his cousin?”

“Yes,” Kerry said, nodding. “Overdose, right?’

“Yeah. And Carter knew he had a problem before that, so his family was mad that they didn’t tell him. He ended up cutting himself from them financially- so it’s a really good thing you’re paying him now because otherwise, he’d have nothing- and got a job as a Resident Advisor in the med school dorm.

“And speaking of which, why do we have a med school dorm? I mean… If you’re not ready to live on your own when you’re in med school, I don’t think you’re ready to be in med school,” Susan said as an aside. She looked at Kerry, her head cocked slightly to the side. “Did Northwestern have one?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would you have used it if they did?”

“Probably not, seeing as I was already married.”

Susan straightened up, frowning. 

“Did I know that?”

“I would think I told you,” Kerry said slowly. 

Susan thought for a moment and then narrowed her eyes. 

“I don’t think you did,” she concluded. “But we’ll come back to that.

“Anyways, Carter was working as an RA in the med school dorm. And on Halloween, a couple of the med students got drunk and did ecstasy.”

“Well, that’s no good.”

“No, they nearly died,” Susan confirmed. “Carter was working on that case presentation thing you assigned him, so he was in the library and… he got fired. And has been living in the on-call room ever since.”

“Now,  _ that _ I did know,” Kerry pointed out. 

“So… we should have him move in with us,” Susan said in a decisive tone. “I mean… everyone knows about us now, so they wouldn’t question why we’d have an extra bedroom.”

“No.”

“Why  _ not _ ?”

Kerry scoffed at the question.

“Why not? Because… Susan, I just got this job by the skin of my teeth. We can’t invite a resident to live with us. It could… it could considering favoritism.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah. But they already that you’re fucking one of your attendings, so I  _ really  _ don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

Susan hadn’t meant to elicit a blush from Kerry by saying this, but that in no way meant she didn’t appreciate it nonetheless.

“Where… where would we even put him?”

“In the basement.”

“That’s  _ Suzie’s _ room.”

Susan opened her mouth to reply but closed it as she took another moment to consider.

“Okay… We turn the dining room into Suzie’s room and we put Carter in the basement.”

“We can’t put Suzie in the dining room. Then where will we host company?”

“And when was the last time we hosted company?”

Kerry shook her head which in turn prompted Susan to roll her eyes, neck, and shoulders.

“Come on,” Susan encouraged. “It’s  _ Carter _ . He’s like one of the four people in the ER you can actually stand for longer than ten minutes.  _ Plus _ , live-in childcare, which will be great when Rochelle goes to med school.”

Kerry perked up.

“Did she get in?” she asked quickly. 

“Not yet,” Susan admitted, “but she did get an interview with Pitt, Indiana, and Wash U. So, it’s gonna happen.”

Kerry nodded once at word of Rochelle’s latest accomplishment.

“Good for her.”

Susan nodded excitedly, before she switched back to persuasion.

“But, with Rochelle gone, we’ll need somebody who can babysit Suzie. And Carter’s  _ really _ good with kids.” When Kerry still didn’t agree, Susan pushed harder. “It’s a good idea. I mean… he’s friendly and loyal and he would be  _ great _ with Suzie…”

Kerry raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you trying to sell me on a resident or a dog?”

Susan paused, thinking.

“A resident with the heart, love, and sometimes brain of a Golden Retriever,” Susan stated, before quickly adding, “but he’s getting better.”

Susan was pushing rather hard on this, Kerry thought. Not that it wasn’t in her nature, but it was still rather odd. Then the thought occurred to her. She looked at Susan and narrowed her eyes. 

“You haven’t… already offered this to him, have you?”

Susan looked like she was going to shake her head, but under the intensity of Kerry’s stare, her shoulders dropped. She smiled sheepishly.

“I did, yeah,” she said. 

“ _ Susan _ -”

“I’m sorry, but it was a bleeding heart situation.  _ Literally _ . Midline thoracotomy. We both had our hands in the guy’s chest while Peter sewed.” Susan raised a finger in Kerry’s direction. “And don’t look at me like that. It took me all day yesterday to come up with that.”

“The answer is  _ no _ .”

Susan inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

“ _ Fine _ . If I can’t appeal to you emotionally, let me appeal to you logically.” Susan interlaced her fingers on the island in front of her. “I haven’t paid rent in almost two years. Per the terms of our rental agreement, you should’ve kicked me out a long time ago.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“ _ And _ ,” Susan continued, “during that time, we’ve basically just lived off of your salary and used mine to pay off my loans. And, because of that, I’m almost done. 

“So, if Carter moves in, and pays $700 a month, we can apply that towards the mortgage on top of what you’re already paying. Which means by… let’s say, the end of next year? We’ll be debt free.”

Though admittedly, Susan had made several good points already that were already in the process of convincing Kerry, this put it over the top. 

She took her time to process it though, before she gave in with a sigh.

“Fine. Carter can move in with us.”

Susan brightened immediately.

“Yay! I’m going to call and let him know.”

Susan stood and started the daily search for the cordless phone, which never seemed to find it’s way back to the charger each night. 

“And,” she thought out loud as she checked underneath a blanket on the couch, “when we pay off the mortgage, then we can start looking for a new house!”

“Looking for a new house? Why-” Kerry blinked. “Why would we look for a new house if we just paid off the old one?”

“Because, this place is… small.”

“So? Carter’s not going to live with us forever.” At the following thought, Kerry’s eyes grew wide and she raised a finger in Susan’s direction. “Carter’s  _ not _ going to live with us forever.”

“I know that,” Susan said jeeringly. “I just don’t think that Suzie’s going to want to live in the basement forever.  _ Aha! _ ”

Susan pulled the phone from underneath one of the couch cushions and was relieved to find it still had two bars of battery left. 

“Plus…Suzie has started to wonder,” Susan said slowly and in a much quieter voice than before, “if we’re going to have any more kids.”

Kerry’s eyes widened. 

“Oh. Well…” Kerry paused for a moment. “Well, we can tell Suzie why that might be… difficult.”

Susan shrugged and nodded, her attention directed at the phone in her hand. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said absently, turning for the privacy of the bedroom. 

Kerry watched her walk away and, though she couldn’t  _ quite _ be sure, she could have sworn she heard Susan say in a very low whisper, “I didn’t specify which Suzie”.

 

Moving into the Weaver-Lewis household was, for Carter, an education.

He learned so much information in just his first week that it was almost too much to take in. 

Some things he informed of. Like that Kerry was in charge of paying the bills, loading the dishwasher, and returning the movies to Blockbuster. Or that Susan was in charge of taking out the trash, putting Suzie to bed, and doing minor home maintenance. She even had a nice cordless drill that Carter, who possessed absolutely  _ no _ handyman skills whatsoever, was really jealous of. 

Some things he learned through experience, such as the fact Kerry and Suzie were early risers. This was evidenced by a very unique wake-up call at 5:30 in the morning involving pancake mix, a Kitchen Aid, and a Raffi CD. This was also how he learned that Susan was  _ not _ an early riser, as evidenced by the pillow she threw at the Kitchen Aid before going back to bed. (She missed.)

And still other things he learned simply through observation. Like given how well he knew Susan and Kerry, how many of Suzie’s mannerisms and behaviors it was clear the young girl had picked up from them. Or how Kerry rarely used her crutch at home, partly because she was not on her feet for as long, but mostly because it helped conceal her limp, and at home she had no reason to hide. 

Of all the ladies of the household, one in particular had made it her mission to properly orient Carter to the rules of the house. And, through circumstances beyond his control, this meant it was done so while lying on the floor of the living room, coloring.

“You’re not allowed to paint on the floor,” Suzie informed him as she colored on of the Rugrats shirts blue. “You have to sit at the table. And we go to the library on Sunday, so you have to have all the books in the library bag by Saturday night or else we lose time to look.”

Carter chuckled and (against all natural order of the universe) colored Velma from  _ Scooby-Doo _ ’s sweater pink.

“Also,” Suzie continued, “you have to be nice to Shadow even if Shadow is not nice to you.”

“Who’s Shadow?”

Suzie scrunched up her face in disdain.

“Mommy’s cat.”

“I didn’t know you guys had a cat,” Carter commented. 

“It’s  _ Mommy’s _ cat,” Suzie corrected. “ _ I  _ don’t like him because he’s mean. He lives under Mommy’s bed and he tries to scratch you when you walk by.”

“Good to know, good to know,” Carter said, nodding. “Anything else?”

Suzie thought for a second, wearing an expression Carter had seen Susan wear hundreds of times.

“Oh. You can’t jump off the front stairs,” she stated, “even if it looks like it might be a lot of fun.”

Carter smiled. 

“No jumping off the front stairs. Got it.”

“Oh! And there’s one  _ really  _ important one.”

The suddenly serious tone the young girl had taken made Carter look up in alarm. 

“You have to pick up all your toys when you’re done playing with them. Otherwise someone could trip and fall.”

Given the fact that he was a 27-year-old man being told to pick toys up by a three-and-a-half year-old, his instinct was to laugh. But given the wide-eyed stare Suzie was giving him, Carter knew that she was dead serious.

“Okay,” Carter said, nodding to show his understanding. “We don’t want anyone to trip and fall.”

Suzie nodded, but she didn’t relax nor did she resume her coloring. Suddenly, Carter understood.

“And I bet we  _ really _ don’t want your Momma to fall, right?” 

Suzie nodded again, this time more emphatically. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

“One time, I left crayons on the floor and forgot them. And Momma came home and didn’t see them and she fell. And she said she was okay, but it took her a really long time to get up,” Suzie told him. “She can’t walk very well without her crutch.”

Carter nodded slowly as he listened to Suzie, both paying such close attention to their own conversation that they didn’t notice Kerry in the kitchen, watching them.

“Well,” Carter said slowly, “it’s a good thing she has it then, right?”

Suzie nodded again. 

“Did she tell you why she uses it?” Carter asked, not realizing until later that if the girl had said no, she might expect him to tell her. 

But Suzie just nodded again. 

“She said that her hip doesn’t work like everyone else’s,” Suzie replied quietly. “She said it’s been like that since she was a baby.”

Suzie pulled her knees tighter against her, to the point where almost all of her face was hidden behind her legs. 

“Momma’s hip hurts her,” Suzie said, her voice muffled. “Sometimes it hurts her so bad that she can’t go out and do things with us.”

Suzie picked her head up slightly and looked Carter in the eye. Her own eyes were full of remorse and concern that Carter felt they should belong to someone much, much older than her.

“I don’t want her to hurt.”

Carter nodded slowly. From where she stood in the kitchen, Kerry could tell he was carefully choosing his next words.

“It can be hard to see people we love hurt,” he said finally. “When I was little, my brother got really sick and he hurt all over. And it was really hard to see him like that because he was my brother and I loved him. I didn’t want him to be in pain. Just like you don’t want your Momma to be in pain, right?”

Suzie nodded. Carter gave her a small smile. 

“Even though your Momma hurts sometimes, you still get to do a lot of fun things with her. And you love her and she loves you. So, I don’t think your Momma would want you to be sad.”

“I know,” Suzie mumbled. “But I still am sometimes.”

Carter nodded and gave a small shrug, as if to say “yeah, that’s how it is sometimes.” At this, Suzie lifted her head and turned it slightly to the side in question. 

“Like your brother doesn’t want you to be sad, right?”

Carter’s heart clenched painfully a bit, but he still smiled

“Yep,” he said, nodding. “He doesn’t want me to be sad.”

This seemed to comfort Suzie, given how she stretched her legs back out and resumed her coloring. 

Carter checked his watch and sighed. 

“Well, Suzie, I hate to cut our coloring session short, but I have to go.”

“Do you have to go to  _ work?” _ Suzie whined.

Though her frustrated disappointment was evident on her face, Carter couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What?”

“Mommy and Momma always have to go to  _ work _ ,” she said, frowning. 

Carter chuckled again and Suzie shot him a look of irritation she had  _ clearly _ learned from Kerry. 

“No, I don’t have to go to work today,” Carter said, closing his coloring book and standing up. “I’m going to go visit my cousin.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Yep.” Carter raised a hand. “How about high-five?”

Suzie immediately brightened. Biting her lip in concentration, she wound up and delivered a high-five with the strength of someone five times her age.

“Wow. Suzie,” he said, shaking his hand in pain and wincing. “That was a  _ really  _ hard high-five.”

Suzie nodded excitedly. 

“Mommy taught me how to do it,” she said proudly. “She says it’s not a good high-five unless it hurts.”

Carter chuckled, though his hand still hurt. 

“Well, remind me never to high-five your Mommy again.”

 

It took Carter a good five minutes to find the front door key on his key ring. 

Even though there weren’t many to search through, visiting Chase was always so emotionally exhausting that by the time he returned home, he could barely think straight.

Kerry heard the lock click from where she lay on the couch and instinctively glanced at the clock. As it was too early for Susan to return home from work, it had to be Carter. 

And, sure enough, a moment later, Carter opened the door and stepped inside. 

He hung up his coat and kicked his shoes off before turning towards the living room. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even notice Kerry until she said something. 

“Hi, Carter.”

He looked up as if surprised to see her there. 

“Oh. Hi.”

“There’s some chicken and noodles on the stove if you’re hungry. 

He shook his head.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

Kerry watched him start for the basement and decided she was going to get him to talk one way or another. 

“I heard you talking to Suzie earlier.”

Carter stopped right before the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning instead for the living room. “I… I hope I didn’t overstep any bounds…”

“No,” Kerry said, shaking her head slightly. “I thought you handled it very well. It’s not exactly the easiest subject to broach. And I know it bothers her. Not  _ bothers her,  _ but… Well, the crayon thing does.

“The truth is that it wasn’t really the crayons that were the problem. I’d been body slammed by a rather large patient on PCP earlier that day, so the crayons were just… icing on the cake.”

Carter dropped into an armchair opposite the couch. 

“Suzie said it was your hip?” he asked cautiously, fearing he was about to overstep those bounds he hadn’t crossed earlier. “It sounded like it was from birth?” 

“Yes. Congenital hip dysplasia,” she said, nodding. “I have the honor of having severe malformation of both the ball  _ and _ the socket.”

Kerry slipped her bookmark into the copy of  _ Mansfield Park _ that lay open on her chest and sat up.

“I will say, it makes for a rather interesting x-ray. And some sitting positions that Susan says shouldn’t be physically possible. Which of course only makes me want to do them more. The problem is I never know I’m doing it until she points it out.”

She watched him for a moment to see if he’d react, but he was just staring at the coffee table. She sighed. 

“How is your cousin?”

Carter closed his eyes and laid his head back against the chair. He inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose and then picked his head back up.

He looked at her. 

“You heard what happened to him, yeah?”

“Overdose. Right?”

“Yeah. Heroin.” Carter nodded and heaved a sigh. “My… my family is mad at me because I knew about Chase’s problem and didn’t tell them. They keep going on about how they could have ‘gotten him into rehab’ and ‘prevented all of this’. But… But I tried. I  _ tried _ to get him into rehab and he  _ wouldn’t go _ . The be- the best I could do was-was to take some supplies over there and sit with him while he went through withdrawal.”

At his words, Carter glanced up to see Kerry raising an eyebrow at him. He smiled a bit and rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, they were County supplies, and even if I get in trouble, I don’t regret doing it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Kerry said, raising her hands defensively. Then, she smirked. “Besides, there’s a six-month statute of limitations on stealing supplies, so you’re in the clear.”

Carter let out a laugh, which caused them both to chuckle for a few moments. But as soon as that had passed, Carter closed his eyes and shook his head.

“It’s… They just don’t get it. They don’t get that it’s  _ their _ fault.That- that their stupid standards and rules… The whole Carter family name and how none of us are ever good enough. 

“And having to go through the whole hospital thing again… It’s-it’s… It feels like my brother all over again. The stoicism. The-the blame and the… the fact that no one can admit that they feel helpless, or hell! Feel anything at all! Other than disappointment.”

Carter’s tone and movements got stronger and more passionate as he grew more and more agitated. 

The likelihood that he was going to cry did too.

“It’s just-” Carter bit back tears. “That’s the  _ real  _ Carter Family Trust. The trust that the Carter family is going… is going to fuck things up and-and-and never admit it. Or process their emotions like a  _ normal _ process. It’s… That’s why my mom and dad are on opposite sides of the world and no one talks to each other.”

Carter buried his face in his hands. When he lifted it, there were red streaks on his cheeks from where he had dragged at his skin with his fingers. 

A sardonic smile crossed his face. He shook his head again, his chuckling brimming with anger and sarcasm. 

“You know,” he began, smiling, “when I was a kid, the other kids at school would get jealous because I was a Carter, so they knew I had money. And I.... I was jealous of  _ them _ . Because- because they got to go home and their mom would be cooking dinner. And their dad would play catch with them. And all the other cliche things, that I didn’t get.

“And… and I always felt jipped. That I didn’t get that. Because…Because I wasn’t born into the right kind of family.”

There was a moment of silence between them before Kerry spoke up.

“Well, if there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s that there is no such thing as the ‘right kind of family.’” 

Kerry patted the empty couch cushion in front of her. 

“Come here. Come  _ here _ .”

Carter did as instructed and took a seat opposite her on the couch. She turned a little bit in his direction so she was facing him directly. 

She paused, gathering her thoughts, and then let out a sigh of her own.

“I was adopted as an infant,” she began. “It was something I always knew. There was no grand revelation.They weren’t my ‘adoptive’ parents or my ‘adoptive’ family. They were just my parents.... They were just my family.

“And when I got to be a young adult and the family that I knew died… I started wondering more about this other family that could be out there somewhere.

“There had to at least be a mother. Presumably a father. And sometimes, I would get so caught up in imagining, that by the time I caught myself, there were parents and grandparents and siblings and aunts and uncles… This  _ whole _ family that was just there waiting for me, if only I could  find them.”

Kerry shook her head and then looked back at Carter. 

“And even though I still wonder about finding them… What I’ve- what I’ve come to understand is that sharing blood… genetics? That doesn’t make them my family. Family… family is who you choose. And who chooses you.”

Kerry took a moment to think and then looked back to Carter. 

“We liken family to a tree, but family isn’t a tree. Family is a forest. It’s not just one branch off of one shoot. Branches… cross over each other. They get tangled up. Some branches die off. Other new branches grow.”

Kerry took one of Carter’s hands in both her own.

“John,” she said in such a gentle voice that Carter almost lost it right then and there, “the Carters are only  _ one  _ tree in your forest. They are only  _ one  _ part of your family. And you have _ such  _ a huge family.

“You’ve got me. You’ve got Susan. And Suzie. And Peter and Mark and Doug and Carol and Elizabeth. And _all of them_. _All_ of us. Everyone on your team. You chose us… and we chose you. And… and if your biological family is not meeting your needs, you have a bunch of other people who are ready and willing to step up and fill that gap.”

Kerry took a deep breath. She patted Carter’s hand. 

“What I’m trying to say is… If the branch you’re standing on breaks, you’ve got a whole lot of other branches that you can hang on to.”

Carter nodded quickly, clearly fighting back tears. 

Kerry adjusted herself on the couch and opened her arms to him. Without hesitation, he plunged into the hug and just broke down. 

 

Kerry was still sitting on the couch, Carter curled up in her arms, when Susan arrived home from work.

Upon noticing the strange situation, she raised an eyebrow. 

“What’s going on?” she whispered, stepping forward to better observe the scene. 

“Carter was crying, so I was comforting him.”

“Why did you make Carter cry? What’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t,” Kerry hissed. “Carter was  _ already  _ crying. And then he fell asleep. Now, I can’t get up.”

 

Susan stepped around behind the couch and peered down at them from above. Then, she nodded.

“Looks like it.”

“Can you please help move him off of me without waking him up?”

Susan was about to nod, but then paused.

“I  _ could _ do that,” she said slowly, “ _ or _ … I could have the bed to myself tonight.”

Susan looked down at Kerry for a moment. Then, she flashed her smile and then leaned down and whispered, “love you!” before quickly kissing Kerry on the forehead and running off for their bedroom.

“Susan.  _ Susan!” _

When Kerry turned to whisper after her, Carter shifted in his sleep. 

Sighing, she turned back around, rolled her eyes, and started rubbing his back again. Carter sighed and Kerry was struck by just how young he looked. By how young he  _ was. _

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just keep sleeping,” she murmured to him.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, still absently rubbing circles on his back. 

Maybe having Carter move in wasn’t so bad after all. 

At least, Kerry thought, so long as they didn’t make this a habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just want to start by saying that I love writing fanfiction, I believe wholeheartedly that fanfiction is a legitimate genre of literature, and that I've read fanfiction that is better than published books. 
> 
> That being said, when I come up with something like that "family is a forest" monologue for a fanfiction, I get <em>just</em> a little bit pissed off and wonder why the hell I couldn't come up with something like that for my original fiction. (Side note: I write dialogue out loud, so when I was writing this chapter and I said the 'there are a lot of other branches you can hang on to' for the first time, I started crying. Also, I sent an abbreviated version of that monologue sans ER references to my mom and half my family cried when she read it aloud to them.)
> 
> As I said in one of those writer ask things on Tumblr last week, every story I write is about family. I come from a wonderful, huge, complicated, blended family. There are a lot of people in it. Some of whom have the same name (like my dad <em>and</em> my stepdad), many of whom are under the age of seven, and a few of whom we feel their absence deeply.
> 
> I write stories about family because family comes in so many shapes and sizes. Some find family in their family of origin. Some find their own. And regardless of whether we have one or the other, our families grow and change and ebb and flow. 
> 
> I'm a faithful person and, as I believe that writing is a gift from God, I use my writing to be a witness of the blessings She has granted me in my life. Family is perhaps the greatest blessing I have been granted, so, every chance I get, I use my words to celebrate that. 
> 
> To those who have a strong family, may you find comfort and safety with them. And to those are seeking family, may you know that it it is out there and that there are people just waiting for you to bring light and love and joy to their lives. It may not always be easy to find and at times it may be lonely, but there are people out there just waiting for you to find them. 
> 
> Family is who you choose and who chooses you. May we have, find, and celebrate our families, in whatever form they may take.
> 
> May it be so.
> 
> Amen.
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time.
> 
>  


	25. Chapter 25

In Mark’s opinion, Susan was doing a pretty mediocre job of hiding herself as she spied on the conversation between Elizabeth and Kerry that was taking place in a nearby exam room.

He sidled up to where she was standing, half-hidden by a supply rack, and poked her in the back. She jumped in surprise and spun around. 

“Whatcha doing?” Mark asked quietly, peering through the rack to follow her line of sight. 

“I’m trying to figure out what Kerry and Elizabeth are talking about. And I’m finding it more important than anything I could be doing right now,” she whispered in reply, looking back at the conversation. “Any chance you can read lips?”

“I tried to learn once to spy on my neighbor.”

“And?”

“It’s a really hard thing to do.”

Elizabeth glanced up in their direction, causing both Susan and Mark to spin around and pretend to be in conversation.

As Susan glanced back over her shoulder to check and see if it was safe to spy again, she noticed the pink in Mark’s cheeks.

“What’s that for?”

“What’s what for?”

“That blush of yours,” Susan said, nodding towards the color in her cheeks. Her mouth fell open. “Is that because Elizabeth looked at you?”

“What? No.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Susan said, practically jumping up and down. “You like her, don’t you?”

Mark rolled his eyes.

“Well, yeah. She’s my friend.” Mark paused. “I mean… she’s  _ barely _ my friend. She’s my colleague.”

“Do you want her to be  _ more _ than colleagues?” Susan asked. She wiggled her eyebrows, which prompted Mark to roll his eyes again. “You should ask her out.”

“I don’t… I mean… I don’t know.”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. It took all of Susan’s effort not to punch him in the arm.

“ _ Mark _ . Come  _ on _ ,” she said, exasperated. “You  _ clearly  _ like her.  _ So,  _ you should ask her out. I mean… She’s smart, she’s pretty and, goddammit, I want to go to a wedding.”

Mark’s cheeks grew a little bit more pink at this. 

“Well, that escalated rather quickly.”

“Not really. I’ve been in a relationship for three years, so weddings have been on my mind a lot lately. But seeing as it’s  _ illegal _ ,” Susan said, exaggerating the last word, “I’ll settle for someone else getting married.”

Mark glanced back towards Elizabeth very briefly and then shook his head again. 

“I don’t… Maybe coffee.”

“Yeah,” Susan said, nodding encouragingly. “Start with coffee. And then maybe dinner. And then, you can have babies with really,  _ really _ curly hair.

Susan paused, her brow furrowing.

“Or possibly babies with  _ no _ hair,” she thought aloud. She looked back at Mark and raised her eyebrows, a look of pleading on her face. “Now you  _ have _ to have babies with her, so I can find out which one.”

Mark chuckled. 

“If you’re so interested in a wedding,” Mark said, fighting off the urge to roll his eyes yet again, “why don’t you go bother the Hathaway-Rosses. They’re actually  _ getting _ married.”

“I would bother them, but they’re both so wrapped their careers right now that they aren’t doing anything about it. I mean Carol told me yesterday-” Susan dropped her voice to barely more than a whisper “-that the clinic is getting so big that she’s considering resigning. So she can run it full time.”

Susan, who had leaned in slightly as she whispered, straightened up, her voice returning to it’s normal volume.

“And Doug… well, I’m  _ pretty  _ sure Doug has just devolved into that vaguely human-shaped pile of paperwork near Exam Two.”

“Makes sense. I asked him if he wanted to grab a beer the other day and he looked like he was about to tear his hair out,” Mark said with a shrug of acknowledgement. Then he frowned. “Whatever happened to that drug trial he was working on? The multi-site double-blind pain study thing?”

Susan’s eyes grew wide.

“He didn’t apply,” she said, dropping her voice once more.

“He didn’t apply? He was talking about that for weeks.”

“I  _ know _ . Carol said he ran out of time. Never finished a proposal. She said he was too busy interviewing potential residents because he’s realized that he is both  _ running _ his department and also the only employee of his department,” Susan informed him. She let out a deep sigh. “By the sounds of it, Doug will reach burnout by… yesterday? Because we  _ all _ know there is only  _ one _ person in this world who actually  _ enjoys _ doing all that administrative crap. And she does it while she’s in the bed next to me.”

Mark let out a chuckle. 

“And it’s that I’m bothered that she’s  _ doing _ it,” Susan continued. “I’m bothered that I’m not as enticing as a document titled ‘Medicare Reimbursement Rates for Sundries and Other Miscellaneous Supplies’. I mean… It should be a no-brainer… Right?”

Mark smiled for a moment, but then he caught sight of Elizabeth and Kerry rising from their seats across the way, his eyes quickly widened.

“They’re coming out. I gotta go,” he said quickly before turning and disappearing into a nearby doorway.

“What? Because Elizabeth might look at you again?” Susan called out after him. “Come back here, you coward!”

Someone cleared their throat behind her and she pun back around to see Kerry standing in front of her, her eyebrows raised. 

Susan smiled innocently. 

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

Susan expression changed to one of confusion.

“I work here,” she stated simply. “In fact… I’ve worked here longer than you have.”

Kerry let out an exasperated sigh.

“I meant, what are you doing  _ here _ ?”

Susan frowned. She looked down at the ground and then back up at Kerry.

“Standing.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Hey, I’m answering your questions. I don’t know what your problem is.”

“Well, well, well,” a voice said from down the hall, “if it isn’t the ER’s very own lesbian power couple.”

Kerry and Susan turned to see Robert Romano striding down the hall towards them, his usual self-satisfied smile on his face. 

At their frowns, his eyebrows rose. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that to be offensive. Especially to you, Dr. Lewis, as I understand it, you actually swing  _ both _ ways.”

“Yep,” Susan said, her smile hiding how hard she was gritting her teeth. “Hard. And with a bat.”

Romano chuckled to himself. 

“I’d say something about ‘softball stereotypes…but I think that might be in poor taste.” 

He pumped his eyebrows once in Susan’s direction, relishing the way her jaw clenched even harder, before continuing down the hall. 

Kerry and Susan’s heads both turned as they watched him walk away. Once he was far enough away, Susan clenched her fists. 

“I’ll be back,” she growled. 

“Oh, no you don’t.”

Kerry grabbed Susan’s arm hard and yanked her backwards.

“ _ Ow! _ ” Susan rotated her shoulder a couple times, wincing. “ _ Good Lord _ , woman. You almost ripped my arm out of socket.”

“Do not antagonize him,” Kerry said in a low, urgent voice, raising a finger at Susan.

“Don’t…” Susan’s mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. “‘Don’t antagonize him’? So, what? I’m supposed to just stand here and  _ be _ antagonized.”

“Look.” Kerry glanced around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I have three specified instances of harassment cited against Robert Romano, as well as a  _ very _ strong case against him by Maggie Doyle, and a reasonable suspicion that something went on between Romano and Elizabeth Corday that resulted in her losing her sponsorship.”

Susan’s brow rose.

“She told you that?”

Kerry rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

“No,” she admitted. “But… something happened. She didn’t say what, but…”

Kerry shook her head slightly, clearly frustrated that she hadn’t gotten clear answers out of her previous conversation.

“If you antagonize him,” she continued, “you could jeopardize everything.”

Susan clenched her fists harder for a moment, inhaling deeply, before releasing the breath and the tension.

“Okay, fine. So, what do I do?”

“Write it down,” Kerry instructed her. “Put in writing. Put down what he said as close to accurate as you can remember it, along with where it happened, when it happened, and who was around as a witness. And then turn it in to me.”

“Got it. So, we’re just going to  _ beaurocrat  _ our way out of this.” 

“Susan,” Kerry scoffed. “Susan… Men don’t say things like this just because they think it’s fun. They do it to remind us that they can get away with it.  _ So _ , in order to hold them accountable, we have to hit them where it hurts.”

“In between the legs.”

“ _ In their professional record _ .”

“ _ Seriously? _ That’s the best you’ve got?”

Kerry scoffed again and raised a hand in frustration. 

“Men… men don’t listen to women when we ask them to stop. They barely listen to other men. But if… if we hold them accountable professionally, that  _ follows _ them. If they want a promotion here, or another job, or  _ tenure _ … They have a big black spot on their record. And that’s assuming I can’t get him fired.”

Susan considered her for a moment. 

Honestly, she’d rather just crack her knuckles and go with her  _ original _   idea, but she had to admit that Kerry had a point. 

“I thought an ombudsperson was supposed to be a neutral third-party on things like these,” Susan said, narrowing her eyes. 

Kerry looked at her for a moment and then shrugged slightly. 

“You’d think that, yes,” she said quietly. “So, will you do it? Report him officially, I mean?”

Susan moved her head back and forth for a moment as she weighed her options. Finally, she sighed. 

“Yeah. I’ll write it up.”

“Great.” Kerry glanced around again and leaned closer to Susan. “And then, once all of this is closed and over, you can take him out into the ambulance bay and beat the shit out of him for all I care.”

Susan stared at her for a moment.

“Please tell me you’re not kidding.”

“ _ Of course, I’m kidding _ . I can’t tell you to assault a fellow employee on hospital property,” Kerry said indignantly. “Take him out to the sidewalk. That’s  _ city _ property. And, if you need it, there’s a bat in the back of the closet.”

“Dear  _ God  _ why?”

Kerry shrugged. 

“It belonged to my ex-husband and for some reason, I never could bring myself to throw it away,” she said. “Maybe it was the ‘softball stereotype’.”

 

Susan filed her complaint and Kerry added it to her list, but after that it seemed that for a long while, all the talk of the harrassment suits died down.

Elizabeth ended up dropping out, but Kerry still had enough evidence from the investigation on Maggie Doyle’s behalf that she was able to successfully cite Romano for blasting Maggie in her review though no other surgeon had. And, once positive she would be supported at County for good, Maggie applied for, and received, the Chief Resident position for the coming year.

The rest of the spring passed rather uneventfully.

Doug hired three residents to assist him with the pediatric trauma center, which allowed him more time to actually  _ see _ patients. While two residents, Cleo Finch and Jo Stanislovsky, were completely new to County, the third was none other than Anna Del Amico, who, upon learning that County was getting certified as a Level 1 Pediatric Trauma Center, decided to move back to Chicago after her brief return to Philadelphia.

Carol announced she was pregnant with twins and took this as a sign that she needed a less demanding job than that of overworked ER nurse. So, instead, the ER threw her a farewell party and wished her luck in her next endeavour: overworked free clinic director. (She still showed up almost every day though, seeing as she had a lunch hour free and Doug didn’t).

Susan continued to pester Mark about asking Elizabeth out until he finally did. They started with coffee, and then dinner, and soon had a nice, if slow, relationship blooming between them. Luckily, Susan had the foresight  _ not _ to mention curly-haired babies in front of Elizabeth just yet. (Instead, every so often, she made Elizabeth walk with her by Mark and giggle for no reason other than to mess with him.)

The harassment suit didn’t come up again until the following fall when one Donald Anspaugh made the executive decision that he did not want to make executive decisions any longer and Kerry ended up in a conference room with the other department heads debating whether or not Robert Romano should be the next County General Chief of Staff.

“We all know he’s eager, not downright breathless, so I can find no compelling reason not to support him.  _ Although,  _ as Head of Radiology, I would like to point out that no Head of Radiology has ever been considered for Chief of Staff.” Steve Flint looked around the room at the unmoved group of department heads. “But perhaps that’s a topic for another day.”

“Thank you, Steve,” Anspaugh said, marking something down on his paper. “Carl?”

“Up in Psych, we pretty much run our own ship,” Carol DeRaad explained. “It was six months before I knew Donald had taken over. And seeing as this won’t rock my world much, Dr. Romano’s fine with me.”

“And what about you Jack?”

“God knows, I’m like you, Donald,” Jack Howard chuckled. “I’ve had enough of this bureaucratic stuff. I’ve already had one heart attack. You find a guy willing to take that stuff on, I say book him.”

Anspaugh nodded and wrote another note on his paper. Then, he glanced up over the rim of his glasses towards Kerry.

“What about you, Kerry? You’ve been awfully quiet over there.”

Kerry tapped her fingers on the conference room table a couple times and then looked up. Even though she wasn’t looking right at him, she could feel Romano’s eyes boring into him from across the room.

“How many women do you think work in this hospital?”

Anspaugh frowned. 

“Um… well, I’m not sure.”

“Probably half?” she ventured. “Maybe a little less than half?”

“I’d say that sounds about right,” he replied slowly. “But what does that have to do with Robert?”

“Well, I ask because Robert Romano has a verified history of harassing his female colleague. And I can’t help but wonder what message we’re sending them if we were to promote him to Chief of Staff.”

Kerry, who had been speaking directly to Anspaugh, turned slightly so that she could address the entire group.

“For those of you who have never  _ been _ harassed by a colleague for their gender, or really, anything else, I can tell that it’s not fun. In addition to being uncomfortable and frustrating, it can be… humiliating. 

“And though we preach that if you are harassed that you should report it, the fact of the matter is that there is a hierarchy in our field. And if you report on someone higher in that hierarchy than you, you risk a very real chance of hurting your career to do so. 

_ “So _ , when someone  _ does _ report an instance of harassment, to me, it’s nothing short of an act of courage.” 

She turned her attention back to Anspaugh. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a vein pulsing in Romano’s forehead.

“I can’t speak to Robert Romano’s administrative abilities, nor can I speak to his leadership abilities. What I  _ can _ speak to, is his history.

“And if we choose to promote him to Chief of Staff, it is my opinion that we are then telling our female employees- or, honestly, anyone of  _ any _ gender that has been harassed by a colleague and has reported it-  that their voice doesn’t matter. Their bravery doesn’t matter, and, effectively,  _ they _ don’t matter.

“And I think that I speak for all department heads when I say that is  _ not _ a message that we want to send to our employees.”

 

Following the sharing of Kerry’s opinion, Anspaugh tabled the issue for further review and the meeting wrapped up rather quickly. 

Not interested in being a target of Romano’s anger, the rest of the department heads took off as fast as their legs could carry them. Everyone except for Kerry, whose legs could not carry her nearly as fast as the others, and who really didn’t have a problem invoking Romano’s wrath.

“Well, Kerry,” he said when it was just the two of them left in the room, “you really didn’t do me any favors, did you?”

“Robert, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true and already well-documented in your case file.”

Romano inhaled deeply, a caustic smirk growing on his face. 

“You know, it’s funny you should say all that stuff about hiring me making people uncomfortable,” Romano said, a biting edge in his voice, “because I’m not even the gay one.”

Kerry rolled her neck back and forth for a moment and then adjusted the collar of her white coat,  her serenely bemused smile not faltering for an instant.

“The Board was  _ well _ aware of my sexuality when they hired me,” she informed him calmly. Then her smile grew cold. “Perhaps because I never harassed any of my colleagues.”

Romano’s eye twitched. 

“You don’t think you were exaggerating just a  _ little  _ bit? Maybe to put yourself in a better position?”

“Are you implying that I would lie about instances of sexual harassment against my staff in order to fuel my own ambition?” she asked, raising a sharp eyebrow. “ _ Never _ .”

She walked around the conference table until she was almost even with him. When she was, she looked at him, her jaw set and her eyes icy. 

“I am the Chief of Emergency Services. It is my responsibility to make sure that my staff are safe and comfortable when they are at work. And that is a  _ very  _ difficult thing to do simply because of the very nature of our work. We sometimes feel unsafe and we are  _ often _ uncomfortable. But you know what? I try my hardest. And that means that when I can remove something from my emergency department that makes my staff feel unsafe or uncomfortable, I do.”

Kerry took another step closer to him until they were almost nose to nose.

“If you harass my staff, you answer to  _ me _ ,” she said in a low, deadly whisper. “And guess what, Robert? You just did.”

And with that, Kerry turned and started for the door.

“You’re an asshole. You know that Kerry?”

Kerry paused in the doorway. When she turned back to face him, her bemused smile had returned. 

“No, Robert. I’m a bitch. If I were an asshole, I’d be you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I promise I really do like Romano. But in this household, we hold men accountable for harassing women. Also, given that he blasted Maggie in her review for being a lesbian, with Kerry being out and proud two seasons early, there would be no way in hell she'd let him get away with doing that to Maggie.
> 
> I didn't expect to get from January to September in one chapter, but hey, I'm just writing stuff down. I have no control over what characters say or do. It just happens in my head and I have to try and transcribe it as fast as I can. 
> 
> But we're already in Season 6! And I still have plenty left in store and am looking forward to it. 
> 
> Thank you all for following along. Have a great rest of your Saturday!
> 
> Until next time.


	26. Chapter 26

Carmen looked back and forth a couple times before sighing and looking back to the hastily drawn map Dr. Weaver had given her that was clipped to the top of the chart in her hand. 

Still at a loss, she looked around and spotted a blonde woman in a white coat nearby. She stepped forward and tapped her on the shoulder. 

The woman spun around, her brow raised in anticipation.

“Hi,” Carmen greeted. “Sorry to bother you, but is this Exam Two?”

Carmen pointed to the room to her left, the other woman’s right.

“Yeah. It is.”

Carmen’s point changed to a thumbs up.

“Wonderful. I’m supposed to do a trauma assessment on a-” Carmen checked the chart “- Mr. Agler. Wanted to make sure I was in the right place.”

The woman frowned, her brow furrowing. 

“We usually do those in the Trauma Room,” she said slowly. “Are you a new resident? Med student? Are you lost?”

Carmen chuckled and shook her head. 

“No to all three.” She stuck out her hand. “Carmen Vargas-Vega. I’m the new social worker.  _ Well _ , one of them.”

The other woman immediately lit up in realization. 

“ _ Ooooh _ . Right, right, right,” she said, taking Carmen’s hand and shaking it. “I’m so sorry. Yeah. Yeah! For the- for the Pysch pilot thing, right?”

“Yep. The ER-Psych-mental-health-social-worker-consult-jamboree. I know it’s not really called that, but that’s more fun to say than the ‘Emergency Psychiatric Consult’... No. The ‘Emergency Behavioral Health Psychiatric’...” Carmen rolled her eyes. “I don’t know the real name. But yes! That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, that’s awesome,” the other woman said, smiling sincerely. “Sorry. I’m Susan Lewis. I’m one of the attendings here. I was… Dr. Weaver told us you were coming, but she didn’t say when or who or how many.”

“Gotcha. Yeah, well there’s three of us, though, we rotate, so you probably won’t see more than one of us at once,” Carmen explained. “There’s myself and then there’s Holly, who’s a middle-aged white woman with curly hair, and Lakeisha, a tall black woman with braids. We rotate eight-hour shifts, so there will always be one of us here.”

“And we’re supposed to page  _ you _ instead of Psych, right?”

“Mm-hmm. Yeah, so we’re all mental health social workers.  _ Independent  _ social workers, I should say. And we’re here to do, um, well, assessments. Specifically on ER patients who could have a mental health issue presenting. The thought is since we can do lethality assessments, crisis, trauma, diagnose mental illness - though that’s a longer process we probably won’t be doing here- we can be the first call in the ER for mental health issues.”

“Great. And then… you guys page Psych if necessary?”

Carmen nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, so… if we determine it’s not emergent, we will then work to get them referred to a community mental health practice. If it  _ is _ emergent, then  _ we  _ page Psych and the understanding is that if they get a page from us, then they know it’s a true emergency.”

Susan closed her eyes and sighed in relief like a prayer had been answered. 

“God, this is so great,” she muttered before opening her eyes. “Like seriously. We have patients waiting here for a Psych consult for  _ hours _ . This is going to be so helpful.”

“I hope so.” Carmen grinned. “And you still have Adele Newman too as your regular ER social worker, so you can use her if you need DCFS-”

“I’m so sorry. Hold on one second,” Susan said, cutting Carmen off. 

She turned her attention towards a young doctor in navy blue scrubs who was standing nearby very close to a nurse. 

“Hey! Dave!”

Dave turned.

“Yes’m?”

“What’s your middle name?”

Dave paused, frowning. 

“Stewart. Why?”

“I needed to know so I could do this,” Susan said before raising a finger at him seriously and setting her jaw. “ _ David Stewart Malucci, get your hand away from her ass this minute, or so help me God I will rip it off and beat you with it _ .”

Dave’s eyes immediately widened and his hands flew up, partly in defense and partly for fear that Susan was going to tear them off and beat him with it. He muttered apologies under his breath as he scurried away in the direction of the admit desk.

Susan watched him for a moment before shaking her head and turning back to Carmen, who looked very impressed.

“Sorry about that.”

“Oh,  _ please  _ don’t apologize,” Carmen said, waving her away. “ _ Very _ nicely done. I like your technique. The whole middle name thing.”

“Well, I’m a mom,” Susan acknowledged with a shrug, “so, you know that if I’m using the middle name, I’m serious.”

“Oh, yeah. I get it. I mean… my mom is in her sixties, and to this day, if I hear ‘Carmen Maria’, I know I fucked up. Doesn’t matter if I didn’t do anything. I just  _ know _ .”

Both Carmen and Susan laughed at this.

Carmen couldn’t be quite sure (and knew better than to ask), but there was something in the way that Susan laid her hand briefly on her stomach when she said “I’m a mom” that piqued Carmen’s curiosity. It did seem to be protruding a little further than it typically would for someone of Susan’s build...

As their laughter died down, they could hear a soft clicking sound headed in their direction. And sure enough, a few moments later, Dr. Weaver rounded the corner.

“Dave Malucci just ran away from over here with his tail between his legs, so I can only assume someone was telling him off for something?” she said to no one in particular as she was glancing back over her shoulder. 

“ _ Again _ ,” Susan replied, rolling her eyes. “He’s only been here for two days and already I’ve yelled at him twice.”

“Three times if you consider when he asked when you were due,” Kerry corrected. 

“Oh, yeah. I had blacked that part out. Yeah. Three times.”

Carmen was still trying to figure out if this meant Susan was pregnant or not when Kerry turned to her and smiled. 

“Ah. Carmen. I see you’ve met Susan Lewis.”

Carmen grinned and nodded.

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve only known Carmen for two minutes,” Susan stated, “but I love her.”

Kerry chuckled appreciatively.

“Yes, that seems to be the consensus. I do believe Carter said the same thing.”

“Carter?” Carmen asked slowly. She narrowed her eyes. “Is that the blonde med student?”

“No, that’s Lucy Knight,” Susan clarified. “Carter’s the resident she’s assigned to. He’s kind of good-looking with sort of curly-ish brown hair.”

“ _ Oh _ . Gotcha. Okay.” Carmen shrugged. “I mean… I appreciate the love from anyone, but I’ll be honest, I’d appreciate it a little  _ more _   if it was coming from the med student.”

Carmen glanced up at Susan to determine her reaction (already well aware of Kerry Weaver’s sexuality even prior to getting the job). She was met with an understanding appraisal.

“Okay,” Susan said. She nodded slowly, a smirk growing on her face, before she glanced at Kerry out of the side of her eye. “Is  _ that  _ why you hired her?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “All of the social workers in the program were chosen on their experience and their merit.”

Susan rolled her eyes at just how easy it (still) was to Carmen dropped her voice. 

“So, you guys are in the club too?”

“Yeah. If you talk numbers wise, I’d say Kerry’s about a five-and-a-half, maybe a six. I’m more of a three, maybe three and a quarter.”

Carmen looked at Susan confused for a moment before she let out a long “oooooh” in understanding.

“You’re talking Kinsey scale. I thought you meant level of attractiveness and I was going to say ‘I think you’re aiming  _ way _ too low on both accounts.’”

Susan smiled and looked at Kerry. She pointed at Carmen.

“I like her. We can keep her.”

“Well, we intend to, so I think that’s a good thing.”

Carmen grinned appreciatively and remembered the chart in her hand.

“I should get to seeing Mr. Agler. It was very nice to meet you, Dr. Lewis.”

“Please. Call me Susan.”

“Of course. Well, Susan, I look forward to working with you.”

Susan nodded, still smiling as Carmen waved and disappeared into Exam Two. Then she turned back to Kerry, her brow raised. 

“If this pilot thing with the social workers works, it’s going to be incredible. Like...a  _ lifesaver _ .”

“I certainly hope so.” Kerry took a deep breath. “While I have you here- are you working on Friday night?”

Susan shrugged. 

“I don’t know. You make the schedules. You tell me.”

“Good point.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ve invited a friend over for dinner. Well, not a  _ friend _ so much as a mentor,” she explained. “He recently came on the job market and I’m planning on hiring him if I can. But I’d like you to meet him first.”

“Got it. So… do I need to wear a suit? Am I going to have to ask for permission to take you to homecoming?”

Kerry looked at her with exasperation. Then she looked relaxed slightly and glanced down at her shoes.

“He is a- a  _ little _ bit like a father figure to me. In that he’s been, as I said, a  _ mentor _ and… and… He’s just… very important to me.”

“Understood. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior and do my best to try and impress him.”

“You’re  _ plenty _ impressive on your own.,” Kerry said, shaking her head. “You don’t have to try.”

Susan narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

“But you  _ want _ me to, right?”

“Yes, I do. Please do.”

 

There was nothing Susan could do to get Kerry to relax on Friday evening, so she resigned herself to letting Kerry pace between the kitchen and the front door.

Even Suzie, who generally just went with the flow, kept glancing in Susan’s direction, looking for some kind of explanation. 

Finally, promptly at 6 o’clock, there was a knock on the door. 

“Gabe!” 

“Hello, Kerry,” the man said, smiling as he stepped through the door. 

“It’s so good to see you.” Kerry pulled him into a hug before he could even take his coat off. “It’s been too long.”

“Has it?” Gabe chuckled as she released him and stepped back. 

With Kerry out of the way, Susan could get a good look at him.

He was very tall, much taller than Kerry (though  _ most  _ people were much taller than Kerry). He had kind eyes and grey hair and it was very easy to imagine him as a teacher. 

“Susan, this is Gabe Lawrence. Gabe, this is Susan Lewis. She’s one of the ER attendings at County.” Kerry cleared her throat. “And she’s also my… uh, partner.”

“I thought you said she was an attending at County?” Gabe asked, frowning in confusion. “How could you be partners in a practice if you’re at County?”

“Not, uh,  _ that _ kind of partner,” Kerry said in a small voice. 

This was, and probably would be, the closest Kerry would ever be to coming out to a parent. She watched Gabe closely to gauge his reaction, just as Susan watched her.

“Oh.  _ Oh _ ,” he said in understanding. “Alright. Okay.”

Kerry let out the breath she had been holding, which Susan took as permission to step forward and shake Gabe’s hand. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, terrible things I’m sure,” Gabe said with a smile as he took her hand and shook it.

“Oh, yes.” Susan nodded. “The absolute worst.”

“She’s kidding,” Kerry interjected quickly. 

At the concerned sincerity, both Susan and Gabe chuckled. Kerry’s cheeks grew hot so, to move attention away from herself, she ushered Suzie forward from where she stood half-hidden behind Susan’s leg. 

“And this is our daughter, Suzie.”

Gabe frowned again. He pointed between Suzie and Susan.

“Hang on… Suzie? Susan?”

Susan nodded, her face alight with impressed appreciation.

“Very quick of you. Usually it takes people a few more minutes.”

“My Aunt Chloe named me after Mommy when she gave birth to me. But she couldn’t take care of me so Mommy adopted me and now I have the same name as my Mommy!” Suzie explained happily. Then she cocked her head to the side. “What’s your name?”

Gabe leaned over so his eye line was nearly even with Suzie’s.

“My name’s Gabe. It’s short for Gabriel.”

“My name’s Suzie. It’s short for Susan. But nobody ever calls me that so please don’t call me that.”

“I won’t call you that, so long as you don’t call me Gabriel,” Gabe said raising an eyebrow and sticking out his hand to her

“I  _ won’t _ ,” Suzie stated seriously. She took his hand and shook it.

Gabe chuckled at the five-year-old’s sincerity and straightened up.

“I’m going to go check on dinner,” Kerry said, suddenly thinking of the timer on the stove. “Susan, will you show Gabe to our, uh, dining room?”

Kerry put her hand on Gabe’s shoulder for a moment before excusing herself to the kitchen. Susan looked at Gabe and then raised a hand to direct him into the living room. She paused briefly as Suzie instructed him to take off his shoes, before leading them forward.

“Forgive our makeshift dining room,” she explained. “We’ve had a boarder living with us for a year. One of our residents who was a bit strapped for cash. We then used what’s  _ supposed _ to be the dining room to be Suzie’s room. And though he’s moved out, we haven’t changed anything yet because we’re planning on moving soon as well.”

“Ah. I see,” Gabe said. He looked at Suzie. “And I’m guessing we can’t eat in your room, can we?”

Suzie shook her head firmly once in each direction.  

 

Kerry had made the roasted chicken with potatoes and Brussels sprouts dish that she had served the night she had shown Susan the house for the first time and it was as just as good tonight as it had been over four years ago.

Conversation had been good too. 

Gabe was a great storyteller and was very aware of the fact that there was a young child in his presence. Not only did he watch his language around her, but he intentionally worked to make sure that she was engaged by using hand gestures or funny voices.

He had just finished up a rousing story about a lemur he had met while stationed in Vietnam during the war when he turned to the redheaded hostess. 

“So, Kerry,” he said in between bites of potato, “where’s Michael?”

Kerry paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. She set her hand back down, frowning.

“Michael?”

“Michael  _ Levin _ ,” he said, adding the last name is if to clarify it. “Your husband?”

Kerry’s frown deepened. She glanced over at Susan, who looked equally as confused, before glancing back to Gabe.

“Um… Well, the last I heard, he was in Boulder.”

“Boulder? Is he traveling?”

“No,” she stated. “He lives there.”

Gabe looked as if he was hearing this for the first time.

“Did you two split up?”

“Yes…” Kerry replied slowly, her eyes narrowing. “A long time ago now. I… I thought I told you that…”

Gabe shook his head, his brow raised high. 

“No, you didn’t.”

Susan glanced at Kerry again for a moment before she realized the lull in the conversation was a good opportunity to bring up the question she’d been dying to ask the whole night.

“So, Dr. Lawrence-”

“Please. Call me Gabe.”

“Okay,  _ Gabe _ . I just have to ask…” She leaned across the table towards him. “ _ What _ was Kerry Weaver like as a med student?”

Gabe let out a good-natured laugh.

“Well… brightest student I ever taught. I’ll tell ya,” he said, still chuckling. “But drove me nuts. The sheer number of questions this woman could ask. You know the game ‘Twenty Questions’? Well, with Kerry, I had to reduce it down to ‘Two Questions’. She had these really specific questions - good questions, but  _ really _ specific - and I had to set her a limit on them or else I’d spend an entire afternoon with my nose buried in  _ Harrison _ ’s just to answer them.”

Susan smiled knowingly and looked over at Kerry. Her confusion at the earlier question had been replaced by a modest blush. 

“That was,” Gabe continued, stabbing a Brussels sprout with his fork and pointing it at Susan, “when I could  _ get _ her to ask. Took a little while to get there, but once she started, she never stopped.”

“Took her a while?” Susan repeated, confused. “What do you mean ‘took her a while’?”

“Well, it took a while. I had to coax ‘em out of her,” Gabe said. He took another bite of chicken. “She didn’t quite trust me at first. Had to make sure I wasn’t going to be like Jack Hellerman.”

Susan looked to Kerry for clarification and found her staring resolutely at her glass of wine. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Susan watching her. 

“Jack Hellerman was the ER Chief at the hospital I did my rotations at,” she said in a small voice. “He and I had a… personality conflict.”

Hardly one to dispute the notion of a personality conflict with Kerry Weaver, Susan was ready to nod. But then she noticed Gabe on Kerry’s other side, thinking.

“Was that what it was?” he asked. “I thought… No, I thought it had to do with something about him thinking you were going to be a liability and not letting you into any traumas  _ Yes _ . That’s what it was.”

Gabe turned to Susan, who had suddenly wished she had never asked this question as Kerry returned to staring at her wine glass.  

“Hellerman told her to just do the H&Ps and he’d pass her. And she was going to listen to him!,” Gabe continued, not noticing Kerry’s discomfort. “Luckily, I found her at the end of that first day and managed to get her to tell me what was wrong. Got her to open up and then we were off to the races.”

Gabe smiled and nudged Kerry with his elbow.

“And lucky I did, huh? I mean… Imagine if Jack Hellerman could see you now,  _ Chief of Emergency Services _ .”

Kerry smiled slightly, though she still looked incredibly uncomfortable.

Susan managed to change the topic by asking Gabe where he was (“Hell’s Kitchen. No, really. That’s what’s called.”), but it did little to the embarrassment that had seemed to grip Kerry at Gabe’s retelling of the first time they’d met. 

After bidding Gabe goodnight and putting Suzie to bed, Susan found Kerry sitting on the couch, staring absently at the wall, clearly deep in thought.

“Here.”

Kerry looked up to see Susan standing over her, a glass of wine in her outstretched hand. Kerry took it from her.

“Thanks. What’s this for?”

Susan shrugged. She took a seat opposite Kerry on the couch and took a sip from her own glass of water. 

“You just looked like you could use it.” She took another sip. “Gabe seems nice. I can tell why you like him.”

“Mm-hmm.” Kerry frowned, seemingly at the blanket covering her legs before she looked up at Susan. “He asked about Michael.”

“Well… didn’t you say that you might not have told him?”

Kerry shook her head slowly. 

“He was the first one I told. My… my parents were gone by then and, well, Michael already knew. I had to tell someone. So… I called him.”

Kerry leaned her head back. A pained expression crossed her face. 

“And he brought up  _ Jack Hellerman _ ,” she said in a hurt voice that  _ almost _ sounded like a whine. “I-I thought we had an… an unspoken agreement not to- to at least pretend that never happened. To gloss over that part.”

“What… what exactly happened?” Susan asked slowly, before quickly adding, “if you’re willing to tell me. You don’t have to.”

For a moment, it seemed Kerry really wasn’t going to tell her. Then, she spoke.

“Hellerman was… to put it nicely, a  _ jerk _ . There were four of us on my rotation. He matched everyone else up with an intern or- or a resident. But not me. And then he took me aside and told me that if I just took the histories and did the physicals, all the scut work.... Then he’d pass me. But under no circumstances was I allowed to set foot in his trauma room.

“And I’d… I’d already decided on pediatrics at that point, so I was willing to just go with it. Just get it over with. But I’d…” Kerry let out a breathy chuckle. “I’d been looking forward to emergency medicine because, well, what’s there not to look forward to?

“Gabe hadn’t been on that day. He came on shift as I was leaving. Well… as I  _ should _ have been leaving. I was just sitting in the lounge, considering my options. As he said, he got me to tell him what was wrong. And when I did, he got pissed. Took me under his wing and made sure that if Hellerman didn’t let me into his traumas, then he would.”

Susan took another long sip of water, wishing it was something stronger (but knowing better than to allow that). 

“Kerry,” she said in a low, solemn voice, “I know it’s just speculation as I only met him tonight, but… possible memory loss? And losing his filter? Those are both symptoms of-”

“Dementia. Alzheimer’s. I know,” Kerry finished. She blinked back tears. “And I bet that if I called the hospital that let him go, they’d tell me the same thing.”

She put her head in her hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 

Then, she shook her head and let out a watery chuckle. 

“I guess it’s a good thing I wanted to introduce him to you, isn’t it?” Kerry asked rhetorically. “Otherwise, I’d have probably just have hired him right off. Because who wouldn’t want to hire a doctor as good as Gabe Lawrence?”

“He could probably still teach,” Susan suggested. “You could hire him to consult? He’d probably still be great with med students. Or maybe in the clinic?”

Kerry nodded. 

They were good ideas, of course. Susan was filled with good ideas. So many that Kerry often cringed at how often she’d turned them down or ignored when they’d first met.

“That’s true,” she said finally. “If only I was looking to hire a professor and not an attending.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, in reviewing episodes featuring Gabe Lawrence, I was again reminded of how frustrated I am that the timeline of Kerry's parents' deaths was inconsitent. 
> 
> In Season 5 when she reveals that she was adopted to Carter, she implies that they've been gone for only about a year. In Season 6, she tells Gabe that her mother passed away "a few years ago", but was alive to see her graduate medical school and thank Gabe for encouraging her to go into emergency medicine. But when she meets her birth mother in Season 11, she says that they died before she ever graduated college and that they never lived long enough to see her become a doctor. 
> 
> Forgetting the mention of it in Season 6, I reasoned that her telling Carter that they'd only been gone for a year was more of an automatic response to get people not to ask anymore questions than it was the truth. I figured she'd be more likely to tell her birth mother the actual circumstances of her parents' deaths than Carter.
> 
> In other words, I came up with my own timeline and understanding of it. I've hinted at or made brief mentions of it so far, but for consistency's sake and also because it frustrates me that I cannot make it _truly_ canon compliant, I wrote my own timeline that tries to account for everything we know about Kerry's past as well as the fact that she's probably an unreliable narrator:
> 
> The Weavers adopted Kerry when she was a week old in 1961. When she was two years old, they moved to Africa and returned when she was twelve (1973). She graduated from high school in 1979 and moved to Cleveland to attend college. Her father died unexpectedly in 1981 when Kerry was twenty. Her mother passed away the following year when Kerry was twenty-one. While in the throes of grief, Kerry got overwhelmed by the idea of scheduling classes, and ended up getting  _really_ intoxicated (a.k.a high), resulting semester of just art classes. Because she'd already signed the papers and also was too numb to do anything else, she ended up going with it and had not just a great semester, but the opportunity to truly practice catharsis. This detour semester and the fact that she was double-majoring led her to taking a fifth year. She then took two gap years prior to med school. Accounting for this, she would have graduted med school in 1990, which would put her in the beginning of her fifth year of residency when she came to County as Chief Resident. 
> 
> All this to say I'm mad at canon for not being consistent. Also, I've come up with so much of Kerry's background prior to County that I could probably write a prequel story just of that. 
> 
> Anyways. Thank you for listening to my blabbering. I appreciate it very much.  _A_ _lmost_  as much as I appreciate you continuing to read this. I hope I continue to keep you hooked. (And if I'm not right now...  _just wait.)_
> 
> Until next time.
> 
>  


	27. Chapter 27

Carmen batted a garland of red hearts out of her way and dropped into the seat next to Susan. She kicked her feet up on the admit desk, which immediately caused Susan let out a jealous moan.

 _“_ I want to do that,” Susan whined.

“You should have the baby then,” Carmen replied, crossing her feet at the ankle as if to make a point.

“ _Trust me_ ,” Susan groaned, “when it comes to people who are ready for this baby to come out, I’m the first on the list. It was due _last week_. I’m a week late.”

“You’re a week late?” Carmen said in mock surprise. “Susan… do you think you could be pregnant?”

Susan cast her a dark look. 

“I’m not apologizing,” Carmen told her. “You set it up. I delivered.”

“God, I want to deliver,” Susan sighed. “I mean… who’s idea was it to have this baby anyways?”

“As I understand, it was you.”

Susan rolled her eyes.

“Carmen, you’re supposed to be here for emotional support. If I wanted someone to just state facts at me, I’d have stayed home.”

“Why _aren’t_ you at home?” Carmen leaned down and picked up a Diet Coke from out of her nearby bag. “Or maybe upstairs getting induced?”

Susan let out a sigh. 

“They’ll induce me tomorrow if it doesn’t come by then. And I’d go home, _but_ …” Susan smiled sheepishly. “This is the only place where I can go that my family _isn’t_ here, but there are still people who will help me get out of this chair.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Carmen said, nodding. “Smothering.”

“Like I’m glad they’re excited, but for _God’ sake_ , they need to leave me alone.”

Carmen laughed appreciatively. 

In Susan’s opinion, of all the new social workers who had started at the hospital as part of this program, Carmen was definitely the most fun to hang out with. 

Being with her reminded Susan of Carol, who Susan spent time with when she could. However, it could prove difficult in between twin girls screaming and Doug Ross being an (overworked) and overprotective father. 

Dave Malucci appeared at the desk, a chart in his hand. 

“Carmen, did you see that paranoid patient in Four?”

“I did, yes. And I put my notes on the chart, like I’m supposed to.”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing down at the chart. “You said he wasn’t a danger to himself or others.”

“Yeah. Because he _wasn’t_ . It wasn’t a mental health crisis. He was just _really, really_ high,’ Carmen explained. “I was honestly kind of surprised you even paged me, given that I didn’t even have to talk to him to figure that out. I could just tell based on his flat affect, bloodshot eyes, and the _really_ strong stench of weed.”

Dave tapped the chart with his fingers. 

“I thought that was coming from the guy next to him.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t,” Carmen said, wincing. “Trust me, I checked.”

Dave nodded. 

“Okay,” he said slowly, “so what do we do?”

“I mean, I could give a referral for outpatient substance abuse treatment,” Carmen said hesitantly, “but since he’s a nineteen-year-old freshman at UIC, I think it’s safe to say that he had what the kids call a ‘bad trip’.”

Dave didn’t seem to be convinced, so Carmen took pity on him.

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “If he comes down and he still seems paranoid, I’ll talk to him again. And if I’m not here, Holly will.”

Dave _still_ didn’t seem convinced, but this time, he just nodded and turned away from the desk.

Carmen pulled out a sandwich from her bag and leaned back again. But just as she went to unzip the bag and take a bite, her pager went off. 

“Duty calls,” Susan commented as Carmen pulled the pager off her belt and looked at it.

“Actually, _Lucy_ calls,” Carmen said with a smirk. 

Susan grabbed a piece of pink foil-wrapped chocolate from a bowl on the desk (with much difficulty) and sat back, chuckling. 

“You and your crush.”

“It’s _not_ a crush. It’s… it’s just an admiration of art.” Carmen stood up. “Who am I not to admire the work of art that nature and genetics can create?”

Susan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.  

“Besides…” Carmen let out a small sigh. “She’s straight and she’s like six years younger than me.”

“Hey. I’m six years younger than Kerry.”

Carmen blinked. 

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” Susan replied. “She’s gonna be forty next year. She’s even older than Mark.”

Carmen considered this for a moment and then looked impressed. She turned towards the hall before calling over her shoulder, “don’t have that baby until I get back.”

“Oh, _come on_. Don’t say that! It’ll hear you and never want to come out.”

Carmen could hear Susan grumbling all the way down the hall.  She checked her pager once to make sure she had the right room before peeking her head inside. 

Lucy was standing beside the bed of a male patient. He had olive skin, curly hair and beard, and looked utterly terrified to be there.

“Oh good,” Lucy said when she looked up and spotted Carmen.

She muttered something reassuring to the patient and crossed over to Carmen, who was waiting in the doorway.

Carmen raised her eyebrows in question.

“What’s up?” 

Lucy handed over the chart. 

“Paul Sobriki. He’s a 28-year-old law student who presented this morning with headaches and sensitivity to light. I thought it could be meningitis,” she explained. She glanced back at the patient, who had started rubbing his head hard with his hand. “He seemed okay this morning. Cognitively, I mean. But when Carter and I went to do the spinal tap- to test for it? He suddenly seemed really altered. And now he’s not making any sense.”

Carmen nodded as she read through the chart. 

“The spinal tap… It involves sticking a needle into the patient’s spine, right?”

Lucy nodded. At Carmen’s frown, she faltered. 

“We numbed it first,” she offered, “but it didn’t seem to do anything.”

Carmen nodded again and then flipped the first page of the chart back over. She turned to Sobriki and smiled gently. 

“Hi, Paul,” she greeted pleasantly. “My name is Carmen. How are you doing today?”

Paul stopped rubbing his head and looked at Carmen.

“How do you know my name?”

“My friend Lucy told me your name,” Carmen explained. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Sobriki did nothing but stare at Carmen for a long minute. Then, he resumed rubbing his head hard with both hands this time. Lucy looked like she might lunge forward and try to stop him, but Carmen grabbed her and pulled her back before she could. 

“Paul. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Stop saying my name,” Sobriki ordered, jerking his hands down into his lap. “I need to go.”

“Go? Go where?” Carmen asked calmly. “Where do you need to go, Paul?”

“I said _STOP_ using my _NAME_ ,” Sobriki yelled again. “ _WHO TOLD YOU MY NAME?”_

Both Carmen and Lucy stiffened at Sobriki’s shout.

 But just as quickly as it started, it ended. Sobriki began rocking back and forth.

“I need to _go_. I need to go home and I need to walk my dog,” Sobriki continued. He started to fidget. “I need to go home. They’re going to hurt me. They’re going to hurt me.”

“Who is going to hurt you?” Carmen asked, determined to do her assessment, though she was inching closer to the door.

“Them.” He pointed at Lucy. “They hurt me. They’re trying to hurt me.”

Carmen nodded slowly. 

She carefully took a step forward and touched Lucy’s shoulder, guiding her backwards. Lucy did as instructed, backing up until Carmen had put herself in between Sobriki and the med student.

“I promise I won’t let them hurt you anymore, alright?” Carmen stated gently. 

Lucy hadn’t actually seen her engage with a patient in crisis yet, as most of the work the pilot program social workers had done so far was lethality assessments and talking to families following traumas. She had to hand it to Carmen- she looked _way_ more calm than Lucy could have in the same situation.

Carmen stood there for a moment, using her body language to try and mitigate some of Sobriki’s anxiety. Then, she scribbled something on the chart and passed it, along with her pager, covertly over to Lucy. 

Lucy opened her mouth to ask a question, but Carmen just shook her head slowly. She tapped the chart with one index finger and then nodded towards the door. 

“Alright,” she announced, turning back to Sobriki. “I’m telling Lucy to leave so she won’t hurt you anymore, okay?”

Lucy hesitated for a moment, earning her an insistent nod towards the door from Carmen. 

Finally, Lucy just sighed and stepped out into the hall. She glanced down at the chart. 

Underneath the subheading labeled “Clinical Observations”, there was a new comment in Carmen’s spiky handwriting:

_MH SWK: Patient presents with symptoms of possible first episode psychosis. This will require further diagnostic testing and possible in_

The rest of the comment was hidden beneath the Post-It note Lucy kept on her clipboard with everyone’s pager numbers. It had been placed on top with another note. 

 _Get me a copy of the DSM, a SAPS Assessment form, and_ _PAGE PSYCH_ _._

 

Lucy did as she was instructed. 

She paged Psych using Carmen’s pager before slipping it into her pocket. It took a while to find the ER’s dusty copy of the _Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders- IV_ , but she located it after five minutes of searching underneath the admit desk. 

But as she grabbed the “Scale for the Assessment of Positive Symptoms” form off the printer and started for the exam room where she had left Carmen, somebody grabbed the hem of her coat.

She spun around to see an apologetic looking Susan Lewis, still sitting in the chair she’d been in the last time Lucy had seen her two hours ago. 

“Sorry. Carter’s looking for you.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. 

“Tell him I’ll find him later. I’ve got to take this stuff to Carmen.”

“I’ll take it,” Susan said. “You go find Carter.”

Susan started to stand up, but didn’t get far before Lucy gave in and helped her up. When she was on her feet she winced and let out a deep breath.

“I think I was sitting down for too long,” she said, rolling her neck back and forth. “My back is killing me.”

“There’s some Tylenol in the lounge drawer,” Lucy offered. “You want me to get you some?”

“I’ll get it.” She took in another deep breath and exhaled. “You go find Carter. He has a leg lac that he wants you to stitch up.”

Lucy scoffed. 

“I have a patient-”

“And that’s something you should take up with your resident, Ms. Knight,” Susan said in what was a _scarily_ accurate impression of her wife. 

Lucy sighed and handed over the manual and printed form. Susan accepted them before pointing Lucy towards one of the curtains down the hall. 

Susan folded the paper and tucked it under the clipboard of the chart. Then she slid it and thick book under her arm and stepped around the desk. 

Figuring a detour to the lounge for some Tylenol might not be such a bad idea, Susan started for the lounge. But Amita and some of the nurses were preparing to bring the (blue) cake for the Valentine’s Day party and that, plus the presence of man in a bathrobe near the fridge, made it difficult for Susan to get to the drawer in the first place.  

Luckily, Carmen appeared in the doorway as Susan was leaving. 

“Paul,” she said with a sigh, looking directly at the man in the robe. “You need to come back to your room.”

The man Paul mumbled something unintelligible, his arms crossed tightly against him. 

Susan stepped out of the way as Carmen stepped past her and gently guided Paul out of the lounge and into the hall. 

“Perfect timing,” Susan commented as Carmen drew even with her. “I’ve got stuff for you.”

“Do you mind walking with me?” Carmen asked. She dropped her voice. “I’d like to get him back in the room before he wanders off again.”

“Sure.”

Susan nodded and followed Carmen back to Paul’s room.

“Psych was supposed to be here a while ago,” Carmen mentioned as she, Paul, and Susan grew closer to the exam room he had been treated in. “Lucy still has my pager, otherwise I’d page again.”

Lucy _did_ , in fact, still have Carmen’s pager. Having slipped it into her pocket after paging Psych, she completely forgot it was in her possession until she was enjoying a plateful of (blue) cake at the Valentine’s party a while later.

She only remembered because her own pager had gone off. In fishing her own pager out of her pocket, her hand brushed Carmen’s. 

She considered it for a moment before turning her attention to the message on her own pager. She recognized the number as Dr. Weaver’s. 

_TRAUMA 2 CODE SILVER_

Lucy frowned. 

Why was she being paged to Trauma 2? Dr. Weaver had only arrived maybe ten minutes ago. No ambulances had arrived since she had gotten here. Of that, Lucy was quite sure. 

And “Code Silver”? That wasn’t a color code she recognized.

Blue meant an adult had stopped breathing. Red meant fire. What the hell was Silver?

“Hey, Carter,” she said, leaning over towards him, raising her voice against the loud music. “What does a ‘Code Silver’ mean?”

“What?”

“What’s a ‘Code Silver’?” she repeated louder. 

“‘Code Silver’? Means there’s someone with a weapon in the hospital,” Carter replied loudly. “Why?”

All color drained from Lucy’s face. She slowly turned and looked at the blue cake, eyes widening.

A terrible, terrible question occurred to her. A question she was sure she knew the answer to: hadn’t they been looking for a bigger knife to cut it with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time!


	28. Chapter 28

Lucy and Carter both skidded to a halt at the door of Trauma 2, their blood freezing in their veins as they saw Carmen Vargas-Vega lying still and bloody on the trauma table. 

“Blood bank’s here,” Dave called out, several units of blood to Haleh. “Get that on the rapid infuser.”

Carefully, Kerry rolled Carmen over and had to fight back the urge to gag at the sight of five or six deep penetrating wounds.   

“God. Look at her back. It’s like Swiss cheese.”

The monitor squealed loudly as she lowered Carmen’s shoulder back down to the table.

“She’s in fib,” Dave stated, before looking to Kerry. “You wanna shock her?”

“Would it be any use?” med student Abby Lockhart asked, looking between the two physicians. “She’s losing blood faster than we can give it to her. Even if we got her heart back, it won’t fill.” 

Kerry moved back the collar of Carmen’s blouse. Hot, red blood spurted over the fabric. 

“He got her right in the carotid.”

“Back of the neck too,” Dave said, removing his hand from underneath Carmen’s head. It too was covered in blood. “C-spine.”

Abby pulled out a pen light and shone it in Carmen’s eyes. 

“Pupils are fixed and dilated,” she said. “He got her brainstem.” 

She clicked the pen light off and looked at Kerry. 

Kerry closed her eyes and shook her head. 

“Call it. Somebody call it.”

Abby and Dave exchanged glances. Dave gave her a tiny shake of his head. Abby sighed and glanced up at the clock. 

“Time of death,” she said quietly, “12:17.”

Kerry stood there for a moment, her eyes shut tight, before she opened them and started tearing off her gloves. She threw them aside and gripped her forehead with her hand, her jaw clenched tight. 

“How the  _ hell _ did this happen?” she asked through gritted teeth. She looked back and forth between all of them in the room. “She was lying there, bleeding out, and not  _ one  _ of you noticed she was missing?”

They all looked at their shoes, which only infuriated Kerry more. 

“And this was by a _patient?_ _Whose_ patient? Whose patient did this?” she demanded.

There was silence for a moment before Lucy stepped forward, her head hung low. 

“It was my patient.”

Kerry stared at her for a moment, looking like she was about to pounce on Lucy and tear her limb from limb. But instead, she turned her attention to Carter.

“Did you see this patient, Dr. Carter?”

“Um… yeah. Yes, I did,” Carter replied, nodding.

“When?”

“Uh, earlier. When Lucy presented him to me. And then again to help with the spinal tap.”

Kerry drew in a deep breath. Everyone in the vicinity could see the veins in her neck pulsing. 

“And where is that patient  _ now?” _

Lucy and Carter exchanged glances. 

“We… don’t know.”

“But you know what he looks like, yes?”

They both nodded. 

“Then call security and tell them that. Give as much description as you possibly can,” Kerry ordered. “And when you’re done, both of you meet me in the lounge.”

Carter nodded and turned to leave, but Lucy didn’t move.

“Dr. Weave-”

 Kerry’s eyes flashed. 

“Did you  _ hear _ me, Ms. Knight? I said  _ go _ .”

“Yes, but-”

“ _ Did I stutter? _ ”

“You should probably page Dr. Lewis and make sure she’s alright,” Lucy said firmly. 

Abby, Dave, and Carter all looked from Lucy to Kerry, who paled. 

When she spoke, her voice was low and dark and still edged with anger. But there was no mistaking it: there was fear in her eyes.

“And why would I do that, Ms. Knight?”

“Because...” Lucy swallowed hard. “Because I was going to take things back to Carmen, but Dr. Lewis stopped me and told me she would do it instead. She might have been the last one to talk to Carmen. And… And I haven’t seen her since.”

Kerry closed her eyes again and inhaled deeply. 

“Got talk to security and then go to the lounge and wait for me,” she instructed in a low voice.  

Lucy and Carter waited a moment for further instruction, but when none came, they both turned and quickly made their way away from Trauma 2. 

Kerry took another deep breath and opened her eyes. 

“Abby? Dave?”

“I’m here.”

“Yeah, Chief?”

“Go get Luka and and then go find Dr. Lewis,” she said in her usual commanding tone, though she faltered for a moment over the words ‘Dr. Lewis’. “Page her. Find her. Tear the entire department apart if you have to. Just make sure she’s safe.”

Abby and Dave both nodded.

Abby skinned her gloves off faster and was out the door in the direction of the women’s bathroom within seconds. Dave tossed his own gloves aside and started to the exit too. But as he passed Kerry, he paused for a brief moment.

“She’s gonna be okay, Chief.”

“ _ Go _ , Malucci.”

He nodded and left, followed shortly by Haleh and some of the other staff that had helped her bring Carmen in, for all the good it did. 

Finally alone, the fear that had gripped Kerry’s hear the moment she had found Carmen bleeding on the floor and that had tightened when Lucy told her she needed to page Susan overwhelmed her and the sobs started pouring out. 

She stood there for several minutes, one hand over mouth as she cried. It took getting lightheaded from how shallow and shaky her breath had been to finally get her to stop. 

Breathing deeply, she took off her glasses , letting the chain catch them as she removed them from her face. 

A few patients and a couple nurses paused outside the trauma room window as they passed, but she paid them no mind. She just took a few deep breaths and replaced her glasses on her nose. 

It was clear when she entered the lounge that Lucy and Carter had been arguing not a moment before. They were both breathing hard and stood in almost on opposite corners of the lounge. 

She looked between them for a moment, her face hardening. Then, she raised her eyebrows. 

“So. What happened?”

“I-I-It was my fault, ma’am,” Lucy said, her eyes (and heart) full of shame. “It was- it was my patient.”

“Ms. Knight, you are a med student. You are not permitted to practice without resident supervision,” Kerry stated sharply. Her head snapped to Carter. “Where were you?”

“I… I had other patients.”

“Did you see this one?”

“Yes, I did,” Carter said, nodding. “Uh… As I said earlier, Lucy presented him to me and then we did the spinal tap.”

Kerry looked back to Lucy. 

“And what time was this?”

Lucy paused, thinking. 

“I think I probably presented to Carter around… three?” Lucy bit her lip. “He presented with a photosensitive headache. I thought it was meningitis, which is why I ordered a spinal tap.”

“And what time was the spinal tap?”

“Uh… maybe six?”

“And when you got the results, did you present them to Dr. Carter in the room with the patient?”

Lucy looked down at her shoes. 

“No. I caught him in the hallway.”

Kerry exhaled through her nose and looked at Carter. 

“And what happened then?’

Carter took a second to respond. His cheeks puffed up before letting out a deep sigh. 

“She...she told me he seemed altered. At which point I suggested she page Carmen.”

“So,  _ you _ suggested that she page Carmen.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

_ “You  _ suggested that your student page the social worker who was  _ specifically _ on-call to deal with patients in psychological crisis  _ and you didn’t bother to go check on her?” _

By the time she finished the sentence, Kerry was practically shouting. 

“I thought Carmen had it handled. I thought that was why we  _ had _ Carmen,” Carter said with a shrug. “We page Carmen and then Carmen pages Psych. That’s how it was supposed to work, right?”

“Did Carmen even have a  _ chance  _ to page Psych?”

“Yes, she did,” Lucy answered quickly. “Well… well,  _ I  _ did.”

Kerry turned slowly to Lucy and raised one eyebrow.

“ _ You _ did?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy confirmed, nodding sincerely. “From-from her pager. She gave it to me and I paged Psych.”

“She… gave it to you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And…” Kerry’s face turned from anger to something more neutral. Though, given the stiffness of her body language, this did  _ not _ necessarily mean she wasn’t still mad. “Did you... give it back to her?”

“No, ma’am,” she admitted. “I… She asked me to bring her a copy of the  _ DSM _ and this assessment form. I was gonna take it back to her, but that’s when Dr. Lewis interrupted me and told me that Carter was looking for me. She offered to take the stuff to Carmen instead.”

“And did you, by chance, give  _ Dr. Lewis _ the pager to return to Carmen?”

Lucy’s mouth worked wordlessly for a second as she tried to answer. But, then her shoulders slumped and she balked.

“No ma’am,” Lucy said in a voice that sounded  _ this _ close to tears. “I… I forgot I had it.”

Kerry nodded  _ very  _ slowly. Lucy and Carter both imagined they could she the gears turning in her brain. Or, more aptly, the gears grinding their careers into dust. 

“Alright,” she said after a long moment. “Ms. Knight, I want you to go to HR and get me the emergency contact number for Carmen Vargas-Vega.”

Lucy looked up from the floor in surprise. She looked from kerry to Carter and then back to Kerry.

“O-o-okay. I can do that.” she said, nodding quickly. “Do you want just the number or-”

“Just bring me the whole damn file,” Kerry snapped. “Go.  _ Now _ .”

Lucy did not say another word, but just nodded even faster and ran from the room. Carter began to follow.

“Carter, you stay put.”

Carter let out a sigh and turned back to Kerry, with the demeanor of a moody teenager who had just been caught  smoking pot by his overbearing mother. 

Kerry looked him dead in the eye. 

“Where were you?”

“I told you. I was seeing other pati-”

“Your responsibility is your student,” Kerry declared in a simple but fierce tone. “And if your student had a patient who was a psychotic break, the  _ last  _ thing you should have done was leave her alone. So, I will ask you again. What were you doing?”

“I had patients. I was running the board.”

“ _ That is not your responsibility _ ,” Kerry shouted, raising a finger at Carter. “Running the board is the responsibility of the attending physician on duty, which, last time I checked, was not you.”

“I’m sorry! I thought she could handle it.”

“Yeah? And I thought you could handle her.” Kerry’s chest threatened to heave again as she considered her next words. “You do realize that it could have been Lucy on that trauma table, right? It could have been  _ you? _ ”

Carter kicked at the ground, but nodded. 

“And you better pray to God that it doesn’t end up being Susan, because I swear John, I will end your career in an instant.”

At this, Carter looked up.

The fear in her eyes that had appeared when Lucy had spoken to her early had returned en force. The same thought occurred to him now as it had earlier: this would be the absolute  _ worst  _ moment to say the wrong thing.

Kerry Weaver was a force to be reckoned with at any given moment, but times like this? They were when she was at her most dangerous because no one, least of all her, knew what could come next. 

So, he just nodded. 

They just stood in silence a moment before Carter warranted an attempt at an escape. 

“Do you want me to go help try and find her?” he offered slowly. 

Kerry, who must have zoned out momentarily during the silence, looked at him, her brow furrowing for the quickest of moments. Then, she shook her head.

“No,” she stated. “I want you to go upstairs and find Carl DeRaad and bring him to me. I don’t care what meeting he’s in, drag him down here. By his ears if you have to. Just get him down here and get him in front of me.”

Carter nodded and turned again for the door. 

But just as he opened it, Dave burst in, Abby close at his heels. 

“Chief,” he panted clearly out of breath, “we couldn’t find her.”

“We checked everywhere,” Abby added. “Bathrooms, exam rooms… everywhere. Nothing.”

Kerry clenched her fist so tightly she could feel it shake. 

“What about closets? The ambulance bay? Hell, did you check Doc Magoo’s?”

Dave and Abby exchanged a glance. 

“We didn’t know you wanted us to go off hospital property-”

“I want you,” Kerry said, seething, “to  _ find... my… wife.” _

Dave nodded, emboldened in his task, before rushing out as fast as he rushed in. 

Abby hung back for a moment. Kerry watched her for a moment, ready to tell her off if need be. But before she could, Abby gave her an empathetic look before stepping forward to squeeze Kerry’s arm reassuringly and leaving once more. 

Kerry stood there for a moment before all but falling into a chair at the table. 

She buried her face in her hands and within seconds, they were wet with more tears. 

She needed to call the morgue to come get Carmen’s body. She needed to call Carmen’s parents and tell them that their daughter was dead. She needed to admit what not finding Susan meant.

_ No _ . 

No. That was ridiculous. 

Susan was safe. Wherever she was, she was safe. She was safe and fine and out of harm’s way, Kerry assured herself. 

And she received reassurances from others too. From Lucy when she brought down Carmen’s HR file. From Abby and Dave when they returned a while later, still unable to locate Susan. Even from Luka Kovac, who hadn’t been able to assist Abby and Dave in the search as he was the only (emotionally functioning) attending on duty, but sat with her in silence for a long time. 

But even all the assurances and reassurances in the world couldn’t stop her tears.

What  _ could _ stop them was Carter arriving God knows how much later with Carl DeRaad in tow. Even at her lowest, Kerry Weaver didn’t dare cry in front of another department head. 

Wiping the dampness on her face away with her sleeve, she regained control of her breathing, stood up, and crossed to the lounge door. Carter and DeRaad were waiting right outside. 

She stepped aside and motioned for DeRaad to enter, before releasing Carter with a nod. 

DeRaad stood, waiting to see what Kerry would do. When she took her seat once more at the table, he took the seat opposite. 

“I’m sorry to hear about Carmen Vega,” he started with a sigh. “I liked her.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Kerry replied curtly. “Luckily,  _ you _ don’t have to notify her next of kin of her untimely death.”

Whether DeRaad was affected by the downright murderous look Kerry was giving him, he didn’t say. 

He just watched as she pulled a grey beeper from her pocket and tossed it on the table in front of her.

“7:42 pm.”

“I’m sorry?”

“7:42 pm,” Kerry repeated. “Per the terms of our program agreement, when our mental health social workers page Psych, Psych is supposed to respond in twenty minutes. Carmen paged you at 7:42 pm this evening and yet, this is the first time you’ve been down here.  _ Five. Hours. Later.” _

“I’m sorry. But it’s been a rough night upstairs and we didn’t- we can’t…” DeRaad let out a sigh. “We can’t be everywhere at once. And sometimes we just aren’t in a position to respond to emergencies at a moment’s notice-”

“We are,” Kerry interjected, cutting him off. “Every day. At the drop of a hat. And you of all people should know Carl that mental health crises can occur just like that.”

“We’re short on staff, Kerry,” DeRaad pushed back. “We don’t have someone who can cover the ER all the time.

“We took that out of your court,” Kerry snapped. “That’s why we had the social workers. They were put in place to address the minor emergencies, so  _ you  _ could address the major ones. And this was a major one.”

DeRaad ran a hand across his forehead, shaking his head slightly. 

“There was always the likelihood that this could happen. Putting someone in the middle… Things can get lost-”

“So, what? If we had paged you directly, you would have been here faster?” 

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying that having a middleman complicates things and things getting missed was always a risk.”

“This wasn’t an issue with the system, Carl,” Kerry said in a voice so low and dangerous it was practically a growl. “This was your department not responding when we paged you in an emergency.”

Kerry tilted her head slightly. 

“Should I consider myself  _ lucky _ ? That only one of my staff members was stabbed and not two? Or four? Or ten?”

“Kerry-”

“Actually…” Kerry cutting DeRaad off again . “It could be two. No… No, actually, it could be  _ three _ . Because one of our staff is missing and she’s nine months pregnant.”

Kerry and DeRaad stared at each other unblinkingly for a long moment, both daring the other one to break first. 

In the end, it was DeRaad. 

“Look, Kerry,” he said in a softer (read: defeated) tone. “I’m sorry this happened and I’m sorry Carmen died. But, the fact is… things happen. Accidents… happen.”

Kerry stared at him in disbelief for a moment before she chuckled and shook her head. 

“Accidents… happen.”

“Yeah. Accidents happen.”

“I  _ know _ accidents happen, Carl. I make my living off of accidents happening.  _ This _ -” Kerry pointed towards the ER. “-was  _ no accident _ . This was  _ negligence _ on  _ your  _ department’s part.”

Kerry leaned forward across the table, not once breaking eye contact with DeRaad. She dropped her voice into that low, dangerous growl.

“If you cost me the lives of my wife and my unborn child,” she said slowly, “I will see to it personally that every day of the rest of your life is a living hell. Because I know it will be for me.”

The door to the lounge opened. It was Haleh, holding a trauma gown. 

“Dr. Weaver, paramedics just brought in an auto-versus-pedestrian. The pedestrian seems altered and fits the description Carter and Lucy gave.”

Kerry inhaled a deep breath of relief and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. 

“I suggest you go see that patient, Carl,” she stated, raising an eyebrow, “while you still have a medical license.”

DeRaad’s eye twitched for the  _ briefest  _ of moments before he stood and crossed to leave.

Both Kerry and Haleh watched him go before Haleh turned back to Kerry.

“Also, Coburn’s on line one for you.”

“Coburn?” Kerry asked, confused “What does- just… Just tell Janet I’ll call her back later.”

“Okay,” Haleh said, shrugging, “but she did say that she has Dr. Lewis upstairs and that, at the rate things are moving, if you don’t get up there soon, you’re gonna miss the birth of your child.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: How many chapters of this fanfiction will involve Kerry telling sombody off? 
> 
> Answer: A number proportional to the number of episodes she tells someone off in. Which is to say... a lot.
> 
>  
> 
> See? Everything's fine! Everything's good! We're all okay! Well, except Carmen.
> 
> Poor Carmen. You've probably figured it out by now, but Carmen was never going to be okay. She was but a pawn in this game called life. I mean... fanfiction.
> 
> You can all relax now. I mean... nothing could possibly go wrong when Susan gives birth, right? I wouldn't keep you on tenterhooks  _again,_ would I? And the use of rhetorical questions in the end notes of this chapter didn't just make you really nervous, did it?
> 
> Well, don't worry. There's nothing to fear. Everything's going to be just fine...
> 
> :)
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. Until next time. 


	29. Chapter 29

Susan was standing next to the hospital bed, already dressed in a gown, her hands supporting her lower back when Kerry burst into the room. 

At the sight of her, Susan sighed.

“Oh, good. You’re here. Can you please yell at them until they give me an epidural? I know it’s probably too late, but you’re so scary when you yell. I’m sure they’ll listen to you.”

Susan barely had the chance to process the look on Kerry’s face and much less to ask questions before Kerry had flung her arms around her (or at least as well as she could with Susan so pregnant). 

“What’s wrong?” Susan said, frowning as Kerry released her. 

For a moment, Kerry couldn’t make any words come out. Every time she took a breath to speak, she was nearly overcome with great, racking sobs of relief. 

“I… I-I couldn’t find you,” she finally managed to squeak out. “And-and-and I thought… Oh, God, I thought…”

“You thought what?” Susan’s eyes widened. “I forgot to page you, didn’t I? I knew I forgot to do something.”

Before either of them could say anything else, a contraction caused Susan to nearly double over in pain.

Kerry laid a gentle hand on her back as Susan breathed through it. Once it was over, Susan took a few more deep breaths and straightened back up.

“For the record,” she said, still wincing, “ _that_ is why I forgot.”

Kerry nodded. She was relieved, but she couldn’t stop the tears from continuing to flow down her cheeks. (Not that she was particularly concerned with that at the moment.)

“What did you think happened?” Susan asked.

“I...I…” Kerry was interrupted as Susan grimaced in pain at another contraction. “I’ll...I’ll tell you later.”

“No,” Susan said, her tone firmer than usual due to the pain. “Tell me now.”

Kerry paused, collecting herself for a moment.

“There was… Something happened downstairs,” she said slowly. “A-a patient got ahold of a knife from the lounge and…”

“Oh, God.” Susan’s brow furrowed, her mouth agape in surprise. “Did they hurt anyone?” 

Kerry took a shaky breath.

“Carmen.”

“Oh my- Is she okay?”

Kerry raised a hand over her mouth, her tears starting afresh. She slowly shook her head.

Susan slowly sat down on the bed. 

“I was… I was just talking to her,” she said slowly. She then looked up at Kerry in alarm. “Was it the Psych patient Lucy had paged her about?”

Kerry nodded again. 

“Oh, _God_ ,” Susan moaned. “ _That_ must have been why he was in the lounge.”

“You saw him?”

Susan nodded and ran an unconscious hand over her stomach.

“I went to go get Tylenol and he was there,” Susan explained. “Carmen came to get him and take him back to his room. I had stuff to give her, so I walked back with her. But I didn’t stay because it suddenly felt like the baby was in between my knees.”

“Lucy s-said you were the last person to talk to her,” Kerry said shakily. “And I thought…”

Kerry couldn’t make herself say the words out loud. She could only lean down and kiss Susan on the top of her head, their foreheads lingering together for a long moment.

When she straightened up, she brushed a loose hair out of Susan’s face. 

“I’m just really glad you’re okay.”

Susan smiled weakly as Kerry cupped her cheek, before she sucked in another deep breath as another contraction started.

“This kid stays put for forty-one weeks,” Susan said, through gritted teeth, “and insists on coming out in twenty minutes.”

Kerry chuckled and took a seat next to Susan. 

“I guess you should be glad the baby turned then,” she said as she gently started braiding Susan’s hair out of her face. “Otherwise you could be having an emergency C-section right now.”

Susan gripped the side of the bed. 

“You better not let them give me a C-section.”

“I won’t. So long as it’s not medically necessary.”

Susan was about to roll her eyes when the door to the room opened again and Janet Coburn entered. 

“Ah. Kerry. Glad you could join us,” she said, pulling a pair of gloves from a nearby box. “I heard what happened in the ER. That’s... pretty wild.”

“Yes. It, uh… It was.”

“Certainly sounded like it,” Coburn said absently. She approached the end of the bed and patted for Susan to put her legs up. “Alright, Susan. Let’s see where we’re at.”

Susan did as instructed. 

“Please say ten centimeters. Please say ten centimeters,” she repeated under her breath. 

Coburn chuckled. 

“Close. Nine-and-a-half. But given that you were at eight-and-a-half fifteen minutes ago, I’d say we’re nearly ready to go,” Coburn announced. “Gives me just about enough time to go to grab the nurses and get gowned up.”

Susan scoffed and dropped her head back against the pillow. Coburn turned to go, but stopped. She looked Kerry up and down for a minute.

“And Kerry, there’s a closet full of scrubs just down the hall past the nurses station. I’ll admit, they’re mostly for dads so they may be a bit big, but when it comes to bringing a new baby into the world, best just to be covered in mom’s blood.”

Kerry blinked, ready to question why Coburn would say such a thing when she glanced down at her clothes and lab coat and remembered the trauma she had been running earlier in the evening.

She turned back to Susan, who had turned to muttering curse words in Coburn’s absence.

“She’s right,” Kerry said, nodding. “I need to go get changed.”

“You better hurry,” Susan warned. “And you remembered what we talked about for during the birth, right?”

“Gentle support only. If I coach you, I’m kicked out,” Kerry said, chuckling.  She leaned over to kiss Susan’s forehead before starting for the door. “Now, don’t have that baby until I get back.”

 

It was a good thing that the petite redhead was familiar with making long scrubs fit her in a pinch, because had she spent any more time trying to find a size that would actually fit her, she would have been too late. 

Coburn and her nurses were already gowned, gloved, and coaching Susan through the contractions when Kerry returned. She only managed to get across the room and grab Susan’s hand before Coburn was telling Susan to stop pushing. 

“Great job on that one,” Coburn assured. “We’re going to hang on for just one second and when the next one starts, give it all you got.”

Susan exhaled. She leaned her head back and just happened to make eye contact with Kerry.

“We are _not_ doing this again.”

Kerry just chuckled nervously and squeezed Susan’s hand. 

“Okay,” Coburn said slowly. “Here it comes. Give it all you got.”

Susan let go of Kerry’s hand so she could better grip the handrails. And as she felt the contraction start, she pushed with every ounce of stamina she had left. 

And in reward the high-pitched wail of a newborn rang out through the room. 

“Well, she’s got quite a pair of lungs on her,” Coburn said, smiling as she passed the baby off to one of the nurses. 

“She?”

“Yep,” Coburn said, nodding. “You’ve got a baby girl.”

“Oh, Suzie will be _thrilled_ ,” Susan said, collapsing back against the pillows and smiling. “Or she’ll be _pissed_. Either way.”

Kerry picked up one of Susan’s hands and kissed it. But then her beaming smile change to a look of confusion.

“What?”

“Did… did we ever get around to picking the girl’s name?”

Susan thought for a second, before she shook her head gently.

“Nope. I don’t think we did.”

Hearing this, Coburn raised an eyebrow. 

“Did you two find out the gender ahead of time?”

“No…” Kerry replied slowly. “We just discussed that both of our fathers were named Henry and… stopped there.”

“You could always do one of your moms’ names?” a tall nurse offered.

“I’m _not_ naming a child Cookie,” Susan stated flatly. “And your mom’s name was... Millie?”

“Yes. Short for Mildred.”

Neither of them shared their opinions out loud, but the fact that they didn’t exactly _jump_ at the thought was answer enough. 

“I guess we still we could still call her Henri,” Kerry suggested. 

But Susan shook her head. 

“That means her name would be Henrietta,” Susan pointed out. “If we were going to give her a traditionally masculine name, I’d rather call her Charlie.”

Kerry considered this for a moment.

“Charlotte?”

Susan paused before she slowly nodded. 

“I have no problem with the name Charlotte.”

“Charlotte Henrietta?”

“I have… _more_ of a problem with that,” Susan said. Then she sighed. “But if it’s just her middle name, I guess she can live with it.”

The tall nurse appeared at Kerry’s shoulder with the baby swaddled in her arms. 

For a moment, she seemed to hesitate on who to give the baby to. After all, her training had always dictated that she should give the newborn baby to the mother. 

She had not yet been present at a birth where there were two.

In the end, she settled on handing the baby to Susan, who sat up carefully to receive her. 

God, she felt so tiny. Had Suzie been this tiny when she was born? There was no way. If she had been, Susan would have felt _way_ more scared about holding her. 

“Seven pounds, ten ounces. Fifteen and a half inches,” Coburn said, as if she could read Susan’s mind. “Decent size for a first.”

Suzie had been about that size, Susan thought. Maybe she had just forgotten how small Suzie was. 

Kerry gently lifted the pink and blue cap on the baby’s head so she could see her better. 

Maybe she was imagining it, or maybe she was just doing that thing people do for _every_ new baby where they pick out features they think come from the parents, but she was sure that the baby had Susan’s nose.

“Hi, Charlie,” Susan whispered.

The baby squirmed, her little arms moving, and then opened her eyes. They were big and blue and soulful.

Susan almost chuckled. Suzie had asked her whether the baby was going to look like her or not. 

With eyes like those, Susan thought, there would be no mistaking that they were sisters.

Charlie let out a whimper and then yawned. She seemed to cuddle herself deeper into the swaddle and into Susan’s arms.

Susan could only stare at her in nothing short of awe. It was the same feeling she’d had the first time she put Suzie to bed after being granted custody of her. The feeling that, if there was a God, that She had _meant_ for this baby to be hers. In one way or another, this tiny little human was meant for her to love and to cherish and to protect.

She could feel Kerry close behind her and wondered if she was thinking the same thing. 

And she was. 

Kerry was thinking about the first time Suzie called her Momma. They had been sitting on the couch reading a book and Suzie, cuddled into her side, said it without pomp or circumstance or any prompting at all. Just like it was and always had been true. And Kerry had been overcome with this sense of protectiveness. That, through the strangest and most unexpected circumstances she could imagine, this little girl was hers to share and that she was going to do right by her, even if it took her entire life.

“Dr. Del Amico, you’re _late_ ,” Coburn said from somewhere beyond their little sphere of awe and wonder. “You were supposed to be here ages ago.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Anna Del Amico replied quickly. “I was on my way up when two twin boys came into the trauma center with twin football injuries.”

“And as I’ve explained to you before, being on duty in the Pedes Trauma Center does not _exempt_ you from L&D. And what are all these med students doing here?”

“They were with me downstairs and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving them there.”

Under any other circumstances, Coburn would have told Anna off. However, tonight, she’d allow it. So, she just waved Anna off to her work. 

Anna nodded, but did not roll her eyes until she was facing _away_ from Coburn. 

When she saw Kerry and Susan, she smiled. 

“Hi, guys,” she greeted, stepping forward to peer over Kerry’s shoulder. “I hate to break up this very happy moment, but may I?”

Neither of the women seemed willing to give up the newborn, but Susan finally relented and passed her over. 

“And what’s her name?”

“Charlotte.”

“ _Charlie_.”

Anna smiled and took Charlie back to where the med students stood surrounding the baby warmer. 

“Alright, kids,” Anna said, setting Charlie down in the warmer. “We’re going to do the five-minute-”

“ _Ten-minute.”_

Anna rolled her eyes again.

“ _Ten-minute_ APGAR,” she explained. “Pop quiz: what does APGAR stand for?”

One of the med students, a short, excitable woman lit up. Anna nodded at her.

“Uh… activity, pulse, resp- No. ‘G’, not ‘R’,” she said, cursing herself. “Gr...gr.... Grumpiness?”

“Grimace, but I’ll give it to you.”

“And then…  appearance and respiration.”

“Good job, Dhalia,” Anna said. “Since she’s calmed down a bit, her activity score is a one, but mostly because she’s a couple minutes old now. Pulse is… very fast. So, that’s a two.”

Anna poked Charlie gently on the chest. The baby squirmed uncomfortably.

“And there’s the grimace,” Anna added, careful not to make any comments about which of Charlie’s mother’s she got _that_ from. “Appearance looks good. And.. well, I’ll give her a two for resps even though she’s not crying. So, the final total is…”

“Nine,” one of the other med students replied. 

“Nine it is,” Anna concluded. “Nine out of ten. Perfectly healthy.”

She started unwrapping the blanket from around Charlie to further examine her. 

Kerry and Susan watched with amusement as Anna lectured the medical students on neonatology, sometimes pointing out things on little Charlie as she talked. 

It was, after all, a teaching hospital.

“Dr. Del Amico?” 

“What is it, Dhalia?”

“That fold on the back of her leg,” Dhalia pointed out. “It doesn’t look like it’s one of the thigh folds and it’s not symmetrical. Is that supposed to be there?”

Kerry watched Anna turn Charlie, who she had been holding up with the baby’s back towards the students, back around. Anna frowned. 

Susan hadn’t noticed this, as, now that her body contained one less person inside it, it insisted on resting.

But Kerry noticed and quickly crossed to her, pushing one of the med students out of the way.

Anna now had Charlie on her back. Her brow was furrowed as she moved Charlie’s legs in careful, intentional movements.

Whatever she was doing, Charlie did _not_ seem to like. As Anna negotiated the infant’s legs, Charlie cried out and wriggled like she was trying to escape the pediatrician’s grasp. It was unclear to any of the physicians or med students whether the baby girl was in pain or was just twelve minutes old and not very happy about it. 

Anna continued her observations for a moment, before standing up. 

“Huh.”

“What is it?” Kerry asked, looking back and forth between Anna and Charlie. “What’s wrong?”

Anna looked up in alarm at Kerry’s urgency. 

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Anna reassured her (though it didn’t look like it did much). “She okay. It’s just… a bit odd.”

“What do you mean ‘a bit odd’?” Kerry said in a low voice.

“It’s just… one of her hips was dislocated at birth. And it's odd because that’s not exactly very common.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I  _told_ you everything would be fine.  I'm just like 0.42% evil and realized while I was writing the notes last night that I might be able to freak some of you out >:)
> 
> I'm going to be perfectly honest. This was kind of a weird chapter to write because it's the first time I've ever written an AU that featured a couple having non-canon children. So, it's a bit out of my comfort zone. But Susan kind of suprised me when I was writing a couple chapters ago by implying she wanted more kids, so I felt I had to see it through. 
> 
> Also, speaking of Susan and having kids, I know that in later seasons after having Cosmo, Susan went through the whole second-thoughts-about-kids thing so she could be a more prominent character, but after watching the whole little Suzie story arc, I thought it kind of went against her character? Like... she was ready to move earth and sky to get custody of Suzie, but when she had a kid of her own, she was a little "eh"? 
> 
> Maybe you guys don't have the same perception of that, but I'll say it bothered me. But alas, that is why one of my mottos is "and that's why I write fanfiction". (I also write fanfiction because when I write the super, duper long ones, I now know how to bind books and can make my fanfictions into the books I could never actually publish them as.)
> 
> Thank you for putting up my evil cliffhanger teasing. And, as always, thank you for reading. I am having a blast and I hope you are too.
> 
> Until next time.
> 
>  


	30. Chapter 30

Suzie stood on her toes and peered into the bassinet. 

“She’s so  _ little _ .”

“I know, honey. I heard you the last time.” She glanced sideways from her perch on the couch towards Suzie. “Suzie, don’t bother her. She’s sleeping.”

Suzie immediately dropped from her toes to flat feet. She looked at her mother curiously. 

“How come she’s so little when your belly was so big?”

“Magic.”

Suzie narrowed her eyes at Susan in suspicion.

“Is that  _ true _ ?”

“Yes.”

When Suzie didn’t reply, Susan glanced sideways again to find Suzie on tiptoe once more. Then, Charlie let out a cry in her sleep.

“Suzie, I told you not to bother her.”

“I didn’t touch her,” Suzie whined, dropping back to the floor and pouting. 

Susan couldn’t help but chuckle, which only made Suzie pout harder. 

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, my love,” Susan replied. “You just sound like a big sister.”

There was a soft knock at the door. Susan immediately looked towards the bassinet, but Charlie made no further sounds. 

“I’ll get it!” Suzie said excitedly. 

To her, it did not matter how many visitors they’d had knocking on their door over the past few days. She was still ecstatic every time. 

Susan, on the other hand, was getting a bit sick of it. 

Suzie had her hand on the doorknob before Susan managed to call out, “check who it is first.”

Suzie instantly let go of the knob and ran over to the large front window. She climbed onto the armchair in front of it (mostly because she had permission to stand on it, not really because she needed it to see) and looked out of the window.

“It’s Uncle Mark!”

Susan sighed. 

“Okay. Go ahead and let him in.”

Suzie jumped down from the chair and ran back over to the door. She turned the knob and pulled it open.

“Uncle Mark! Uncle Mark! Uncle Mark!”

“Suzie! Suzie! Suzie!”

“Are you here to see the new baby?”

“Yes, I am.”

Mark hadn’t even managed to take a step into the house before Suzie grabbed his hand and started pulling him inside. 

“Come  _ on, _ ” she said, pulling with all her might. “Come see the new baby.”

“Okay, okay,” Mark said, chuckling. “I will. I want to talk to your mom first.”

Suzie stopped pulling on his hand and instead looked at him like he had just suggested they go on unicorn rides through the Baltic Sea.

“Why?” She started pulling on his hand even harder. “Come see the new  _ baby _ .”

“ _ Suzie _ ,” Susan said in a warning tone. “Uncle Mark will see the baby in a minute.”

Suzie huffed and let go of Mark’s hand. Then, she stalked angrily over to the bassinet and took a seat on the floor next to it.

“You are not nearly as cool as the baby,” Mark commented as he leaned over to give Susan a hug. 

“Oh, no. Not at all.”

“Guess it’s good that she likes her though, right?”

“Yes,” Susan replied slowly. She dropped her voice. “We like the baby until we  _ don’t _ like the baby anymore. Which typically happens when a certain someone realizes they aren’t getting any attention.”

Mark chuckled and (to Suzie’s chagrin) took a seat next to Susan on the couch. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know,” Susan said with a shrug, “like I just pushed a human out of me last week. Because I did. Push a human out of me. Last week.”

Mark smiled and glanced over towards the bassinet and the self-appointed bassinet protector. 

“And how’s that human doing? Keeping you up much?”

“Actually, no,” Susan replied. “She’s been sleeping  _ really _ well. Much better than someone else I know when they were her age.”

“Are you talking about me?” Suzie asked, her eyes narrowing again.

“Yes, we are, dear,” Susan answered. “I was telling Uncle Mark how your sister sleeps better than you did when you were a baby.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh. Trust me, sweetie. I was there.”

Suzie crossed her arms and pouted for a second before she noticed the momentary silence and leapt to her feet. She looked at Mark.

“Are you ready to see the baby  _ now? _ ”

Mark chuckled. He let out a sigh and pretended to roll his eyes. 

“Yes, I’m ready to see the baby now.”

Suzie excitedly grabbed his hand and led him in the direction of the bassinet. 

“She’s really little. And she sleeps a lot.”

“Yep. That’s what babies do,” Mark said, nodding as he leaned closer to get a better look at Charlie. 

“And she has to wear the thingy to keep her hip in its place,” Suzie explained. “It wasn’t in the right place when she was born. They fixed it, but she has to wear the thingy to make sure it doesn’t move out of place again.”

Mark nodded and straightened up. 

“Has she had any trouble with the harness at all? Irritation or anything?”

Susan shook her head. 

“Nah. It just makes changing her diaper a bit strange.”

When he had stopped by briefly the first day after Susan and Charlie came home, Susan had explained to him about the Pavlik harness meant to keep infants’ hips in place. It held Charlie’s legs out at almost a ninety degree angle to ensure the femur stayed within the hip socket. 

Mark nodded and took his seat next to Susan once again. 

“Remind me: did Anna say anything about how long she’ll have to wear it?”

“About… well, at least, six weeks. Could be up to six months. All depends on how well her hip grows and stuff,” Susan said. She sighed. “It just still gets me how crazy it is.”

“That it happened?”

“Well, yeah. But the condition- Anna called it  ‘developmental dysplasia of the hip’ - that’s the same thing Kerry has. Charlie’s doesn’t appear to be  _ nearly _ as bad as Kerry’s, but still. Crazy, right?”

“Did you use her egg?”

“Nope. That’s one hundred percent Lewis DNA right there. Well…  _ fifty _ percent Lewis DNA,” Susan said, motioning in the direction of the bassinet. “Honestly, it was sort of because of this. It’s more likely to be passed if a parent has it and that, plus the fact that Kerry’s adopted and doesn’t know anything about her birth family, she - well,  _ we-  _ didn’t feel comfortable with it.”

“Did you know anything about the donor?” Mark asked, unsure of whether or not this was an appropriate question to ask. 

“We didn’t know his name,” Susan replied, “but we knew health history, job, education. Stuff like that. We liked this one in particular because he did something with healthcare.”

“You do know that Robert Romano sells his sperm, right?”

“Oh, yes. Elizabeth was  _ very  _ adamant that we knew that.” Susan assured him. “It’s the one time you  _ don’t _ want the father of your child to be a surgeon.”

Susan thought for a moment.

“I want to say he was a medic? Flight medic? Flight nurse. He was a flight nurse.” Susan nodded. “Yeah. We figured it was only right to have some kind of emergency medicine connection on both sides.”

“I’ll say,” Mark said, raising his brow, “it’s kind of ironic for it to be a flight nurse. Considering you  _ hate _ flying.”

“Well, it’ll balance out well then, won’t it?”

Mark laughed out loud at this, or, more appropriately, Susan’s underlying thesis that phobias can be genetic. His laughter earned him a chuckle from Susan as well, but from Suzie, they both just got a furrowed brow and the conclusion that grown-ups are really weird. 

“So,” he said, still smiling, “how’s Kerry doing with all of this?”

“She’s good,” Susan said, shrugging. “It’s just… Not that she’s not excited about Charlie, but I think the whole Carmen thing has kind of put a damper on how much she can celebrate. At least at work.”

“Isn’t she taking time off?” Mark asked. “I thought that was the plan. For a couple weeks, at least.”

“That  _ is _ the plan. But she’s had to take care of so much at work, she had to postpone. I think tomorrow’s the last day. It might be today. Honestly, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her all that much this week, and when I have, work’s the last thing she wants to talk about.”

“Is she going to Carmen’s funeral today?”

Susan nodded, her expression almost a grimace. 

“Yeah. She should be home around two,” Susan said, glancing at the clock on the VCR. “She’s going grocery shopping afterwards, I know, because she was supposed to do that last week, but then I had a baby.”

“And one of her employees got stabbed. 

“Yeah, that too.” Susan let out a deep sigh. “It’s good though, because we’re nearly out of food.”

“Oh. That reminds me.” Mark picked the grocery bag he’d come in with off the floor and showed it to Susan. “Elizabeth sent me with one of her Shepherd’s Pies. For you and Kerry and Suzie.”

Susan’s eyes grew wide. 

“Is that the thing she brought to the Christmas party?”

Mark shrugged and made an “I don’t know” sound.

“It’s the one with meat and potatoes. I know that.”

Susan inhaled deeply, a grin spreading across her face. 

“Yesss,” she said, elongating the word as she relished the memory. “Well, thank her and tell her I love her.”

“She’ll be over tomorrow. You can tell her then.”

“She can be told  _ twice _ , Mark.”

 

The other mourners had long since left the hospital chapel, but Kerry remained seated in place. 

Part of her brain was telling her she needed to get up. That there were going to be other funerals or memorials or worship services. But the voice telling her to move wasn’t strong enough to actually get her to do it. 

As she stared ahead, she noticed movement to her right. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she could she the hospital chaplain taking a seat next to her. 

Automatically, she began reaching for her things.

“Oh, please don’t leave on my account,” the man said, chuckling.

Her hands froze. She looked at him. 

He was an older black gentleman, bald on top but with white hair on the sides and a matching white beard. He exuded calm and gentleness, but the glint in his eye reflected more of a beloved grandfather known for making jokes. 

“You were in the memorial service this morning,” he pointed out in a thoughtful tone. “The deceased… was she a friend of yours?”

“Uh…” Kerry released her bag and crutch and sat back in the pew. “She was… staff. I, uh, worked with her.”

The chaplain nodded. 

For a moment, she thought he might recognize her from the staff directory and comment something about the fact that Carmen didn’t work  _ with _ her, but  _ for  _ her. 

But he didn’t. He just sighed the sigh of a man too often sitting aside those in the depths of grief and mourning. 

“I’ve… I’ve kept telling myself that I should go,” Kerry said quietly. “But… but I just can’t seem to bring myself to.”

The chaplain nodded knowingly. 

“You wouldn’t be the first, I’ll tell you that. And I’d bet you won’t be the last.”

He looked at her curiously out of the side of his eye and raised an eyebrow. 

“I find that when others, or even myself from time to time, have difficulty leaving this place, it’s because God has put something heavy on their hearts that He wants them to think about,” the chaplain told her. “Sometimes, they are things the person already knows about. Sometimes, they aren’t. But you… Something tells me you know what it is that you’ve been thinking a lot about.”

Kerry picked at one of her fingernails. Her upbringing had given her the distinct understanding that faith leaders tended to have a gift for picking up on when something was bothering someone. But, in this instance, the chaplain’s gift felt more like an uncomfortable session with the social worker a few years ago where Kerry was half-convinced Dana Scott could read her mind.

“My wife just had a baby.” Kerry said the statement as fast as she could, with the hope that the chaplain might not catch the word ‘wife’. “And… and her hip was dislocated when she was born. It’s the same… It’s the same disability I have and I… I mean, we don’t know how bad it is or if it’s going to have any effect later… It could be just a blip in her timeline for all we know. Just this little thing when she was born that is treated and goes away…”

Kerry trailed off.

“Or it could be something that lasts through her life?” the chaplain asked, though they both knew he was simply finishing her thought. 

Kerry nodded. 

“And I’m…” Tears welled in Kerry’s eyes. She shook her head, disappointed with herself. “And I’m scared.”

She’d only teared up once during the funeral, instead practicing her well-developed stoicism. But now, talking to a clergyperson for the first time in years, there was nothing that could prevent her from crying. 

“I mean.. I know even if it-it lasts, she’ll be okay. We’ll still love her and she’ll have a fantastic life but… But…” Kerry took a deep breath. “But it won’t always be easy. And there will be things she… she just can’t do. 

“And I don’t want her to have limitations. I don’t want her to... “ Kerry tried to swallow the next words, intent on them not being spoken aloud. But they came out anyway. “I don’t want her to be like me. I don’t want her to be-be-be embarrassed or-or sensitive. And I don’t want her to be in pain. Because it  _ hurts.  _ God, sometimes it just  _ hurts.” _

As the words came out, so did the emotions she’d been holding back for the whole week since Charlie was born. The fear and the anxiety and the confusion. Not to mention all those old feelings of abandonment that she had worked so hard to keep forced down that had reared their ugly heads at the knowledge of just how quickly hip problems could be identified in newborn babies. 

The chaplain gave her a moment to cry and then another long moment in silence. 

Kerry wiped her face and in doing so, happened to glance right at the cross hanging on the wall. 

“And since every Christian funeral uses the same scripture,” she found herself saying aloud. “I keep thinking of my parents and what they would tell me to do.”

“And what’s that?”

Kerry sighed. 

“To sit in the comfort and rest of God.”

The chaplain looked very impressed. 

“They sound like wise people.

But Kerry did not catch this. She was too busy shaking her head. 

“I just feel so…” Kerry buried her face in her hands. When she picked it up, she clenched her fists in frustration. “I  _ know _ I shouldn’t be scared. That- that there’s nothing to be  _ afraid  _ of, but… but… But I’m still scared.”

The chaplain sat back and crossed his hands on his stomach. He let out a thoughtful sigh.

“I take it you grew up in the church, yes?”

Kerry nodded. 

“Do you remember the story of Jesus calming the storm?”

Kerry nodded. 

“Well,” he said in the same tone of voice he used when giving his sermon earlier, “when the disciples were sitting in the boat and the storm arose, Jesus was asleep. The disciples got scared by the storm and woke him up. And when they did, he calmed the storm and then turned to them angrily and asked, ‘why do you fear? Do you not know that I am with you?’”

The chaplain turned slightly towards Kerry and looked at her with a sincere but comforting look on his face 

“He never said there was nothing to fear. He didn’t say that the disciples were silly to be afraid. He only asked why they feared the storm when they knew he was there with them.

“So,” he said with an air of finality, “if you feel that there could be something to worry about, God will not tell you that there isn’t. He will only remind you that He is with you.”

Kerry did not nod at this, but rather bit her lip. The chaplain’s brow furrowed.

“Do you not feel that God is with you?”

She bit her lip harder, this time against more tears that threatened to spill over. 

Then, she gave a tiny shake of her head.

“Are you a child of this earth? Knit together by the very same Creator who hung each star in the sky?”

Her lower lip trembling, she gave a very small nod.

“Then, how could you not feel that God is with you?”

Kerry’s shoulders dropped and she looked at the chaplain with a look of exasperation.

“I’m gay.”

The chaplain just chuckled. 

“I’ll repeat my question,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “are you not a child of this earth? Knit together by the very Creator who hung each star in the sky and knows each one by name? By whose power and love not one is ever lost? And is your daughter not the very same?”

The chaplain let out a deep sigh. 

“‘Neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God,’” the chaplain recited from memory. “Romans 8:39.”

He laid a gentle hand on Kerry’s and patted it.

“There is nothing that can separate us from the love of God, my dear,” the chaplain said in a low voice  _ so _ like Kerry’s father’s voice that she almost teared up again. “And if this is a time in which you need to seek comfort and rest, then you can seek it in Lord. And if you feel that you cannot go elsewhere, then you are welcome to come here.

“County General prides itself on the fact that all who seek care here will receive it. It is a part of our mission,” the chaplain stated simply. “And, as far as I’m concerned, that’s the Lord’s mission too.”

He gently patted Kerry’s hand again and she was sure the next words out of his mouth were going to be him asking if he could pray with her. 

But instead, he just winked at her and stood up.

Kerry watched him walk down the pew to the walkway in between sections. 

He was nearly to the doorway when he stopped and turned to her, a sincere look of consideration on his face. 

“The healing that happens here? It is not just because of your drugs or your machines or your procedures. Nor is it limited to just the physical. And, least of all, is it relegated solely to the patients.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I formally submit this chapter as a response to the Season 11 episode "Just As I Am." Well, as  _one_ response. I can, and have, written an essay on that episode. It is a fantastic episode and Laura Innes does an incredible job. However, as an LGBT Christian, watching that episode within months of my denomination voting that they will  _not_ be accepting to LGBT church members (in 20-fucking-19), it was very difficult to watch. 
> 
> That being said, I understand that the second half of this chapter could come across as really heavy handed and may make some of you uncomfortable. For that I apologize. It was not my intention at all and I assure you that this is the only time this will occur in this fic. 
> 
> I planned the arrival of Charlie to coinside with the "All in the Family", but it was not until later that I added the part about her hip. When I was struck with the idea, it intrigued me a lot because of how Kerry would react to it. As I've talked about in notes before, one thing that is well established regarding her character is her sensitivity regarding her disability. In an instance in which her child happened to have the same condition that she had, it opens up a lot of questions and opportunities to explore how she would approach it. 
> 
> I think I've done a good job in this fic so far in regards to Kerry's growth that we see in later seasons occuring sooner and (imo) a little bit better. Or at least with far less literal and metaphorical casualties. But, keeping the  core of hercharacter in mind, I truly think that even given all the growth and self-acceptance she goes through that having a child with the same condition as her would bring up old hurt and fears. I'm curious to know what you think. 
> 
> Originally, I had the second half of this chapter occuring in a counseling session where Kerry returned to see Dana Scott the social worker. But somehow this felt more appropriate. Again, I apologize if I made anyone uncomfortable. 
> 
> As always, I am incredibly grateful for every single person reading this and especially for those who have stuck with it for so long. 
> 
> Until next time. 
> 
>  


	31. Chapter 31

When Lucy set foot in the ER, her first instinct was to spin around and go back upstairs. 

The scene looked like a combination of a school gymnasium after a school pep rally and some kind of gladiator battle. And this was not  _ just _ because of the many people in torn or dirty high-school t-shirts or sports uniforms sitting in chairs and sporting black eyes or bleeding wounds.

The staff looked a bit worse for wear too. Most of those not seeing patients or attending to the people in chairs had congregated. A couple were tending to their own small wounds while others swapped stories. 

Susan, who was seated on top of one of filing cabinets behind the desk, was the first to notice her presence. And, as she had done every time Lucy had come down since starting her residency up in Psych back in July,  she gave Lucy a very motherly look of pride.

“Well, hello,  _ Dr.  _ Knight.”

Lucy rolled her eyes to show her annoyance, though deep in her heart she loved the fact that Susan always greeted her like this. 

“I’m here to see a patient who thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust?” 

Susan raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ve seen a lot of patients today, but none that match that description.” She glanced around the ER, as if expecting fire to shoot out the doorway of an exam room. Then, she shrugged. “Eh, I’m sure there’s  _ someone _ around like that. Tell you what. If you help get people in chairs to leave, I’ll help you find your patient.”

“We can’t just tell them to leave. Isn’t that an EMTALA violation?”

“Not if we’ve already seen them and they’re just here waiting for the fight to start again,” Susan said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s been a mess all day. Friday Night Football in the ER.”

Susan heaved another sigh and then smiled at Lucy. 

“Don’t you miss it down here?”

“No offense, but not one bit.”

Susan chuckled and nodded, a knowing look in her eyes.

“I met your new attending a little while ago. She seems nice.”

Lucy nodded. 

“Yeah. She’s probably still around here somewhere,” Lucy explained, glancing around as she did so. “She came down to meet people.  _ I’m _ the one who’s actually here to respond to the page.”

“Welcome to your internship,” Susan said, grinning. “Anyway. Check the board to figure out where the Psych patient is and if happen to see Kerry picking fights with anyone, please stop her. She’s  _ this _ close to Assault with a Deadly Weapon and I  _ really _ don’t want to have to bail her out of jail tonight.”

Not sure whether Susan was serious or not, Lucy just gave a thumbs up and made for the board. 

Kerry was, at the moment, taking a moment to breathe deeply, barely even listening to the family member in front of her ramble on about her patient’s health condition. 

The deep breathing was cut short by a shout elsewhere in the department. The man in front of her, fearing another rumble was about to begin, dashed back into his mother-in-law’s room without even finishing his sentence. 

The shout, thankfully, did  _ not _ lead to another mass fight, but nevertheless, when Kerry felt a tap on her shoulder from behind her, she did immediately stiffen, ready to call security if need be. 

But when she turned, she did not find someone from one of the two warring schools who had decided to start a riot over a football game, but rather a very tall, attractive blonde woman with curly hair. 

“Can I help you?”

“Not necessarily,” the woman said with a shrug. “I’m just the new attending up in Psych so I’ve been making the rounds, getting to meet everyone. Kim Legaspi.”

She held out a hand, which Kerry shook. 

“Kerry Weaver. Nice to meet you,” she replied. “I apologize for the ER. It’s not always like this… Oh, who am I kidding? It’s always like this.”

“Yeah. So, I’ve heard,” Kim confirmed, nodding. “They told me upstairs about that whole thing with your social worker getting stabbed? That was pretty crazy. And I don’t use that word lightly.”

Kerry raised her brow and acknowledged the statement with a small nod. 

“Yeah. It  _ was  _ pretty crazy, wasn’t it? But-” she raised a brow at Kim, “so long as you answer your page when we page you, it shouldn’t happen again.”

Kim chuckled. Then she smiled, scrunching her shoulders slightly like she was about to admit something. 

“Can I admit something?” she asked. “I came down so I could meet everyone, get the lay of the land and all that, but I’ll be honest- I mostly came down because I wanted to meet you.”

Kery frowned in confusion.

“Meet me?”

“Yeah,” Kim said, nodding. “I mean… you’re a big part of why I took the job at County in the first place. I had a couple offers in different places, but then I heard that County had an openly gay- well, openly  _ lesbian _ Chief of Emergency Services and I was like, ‘hell yeah. I want to work there’. And that’s you, right?”

“Well, if it wasn’t, this would certainly be a very strange way to start a conversation.”

“I’ve had worse,” Kim said with a shrug. “I was shocked though, when I came down because you’ve got a whole  _ army  _ of lesbians down here. You, your Chief Resident, your new nurse, uh…  Hanover? Oh, and Susan Lewis.”

“Yes. Well, Susan Lewis is actually bisexual. Though, she has been in a relationship with a woman for…  _ God _ , almost four years.”

Kim narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 

“It sounds like she just doesn’t want to be called a lesbian.”

“Well, she doesn’t in mind when speaking in generalities,” Kerry said rather quickly, “but she has asked that, when speaking of  _ her _ sexuality in particular, it’s known that she is bisexual.”

Kim inhaled deeply, her unconvinced look still on her face. 

“ _ Still  _ just sounds like she doesn’t want to be called a lesbian.”

“Not when speaking of her specific identity, because in that case it wouldn’t be true,” Kerry shot back, her frustration rising. “She has made it clear that, just because she’s in a relationship with me, it doesn’t take away from the fact that is also sometimes attracted to men.”

Kim’s unconvinced look changed to one of something almost like… pity?

“So,  _ you’re  _ the woman she’s been in a relationship with.”

“Yes, I am,” Kerry said, pulling herself up to full height (which was still substantially less than Kim’s). 

Kim nodded slowly. This time, it was Kerry who narrowed her eyes.

“What?”

“It’s just… I’ve had friends - lesbian friends, I mean - who date women who claim to be bisexual and they  _ always _ get dumped when the woman decides she’d rather be with a man.” Kim shook her head. “I mean… don’t you worry about that? Or that she’d cheat on you?”

Kerry looked at Kim in offended confusion.

“ _ No _ . Not even once.” Kerry scoffed. “You… You don’t even  _ know _ her. You know  _ nothing  _ about her, except for this  _ one  _ thing. 

“And even if, God forbid, something  _ did _ happen and we split up and she dated a man, that’s her prerogative! She told me that she has known that she’s been attracted to men and women- and other genders too, though- though I’m still learning that part- since she was  _ fifteen _ . Who am I to question that? And, moreover, who are you?”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, Kerry’s frustration setting her jaw in place. 

Then, Kim let out a deep sigh. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Kim looked around for a moment and then let out another deep breath. “Can we start over?”

“Gladly.”

Kim nodded a couple times. She held out her hand again.

“I’m Kim Legaspi, I’m the new Psych attending, and that’s as far as I’m taking this conversation.”

“Kerry Weaver, Chief of Emergency Services. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

They shook hands once more, though it was much stiffer this time than it had been before. Kim gave Kerry another smile, one that never seemed to reach her eyes, before Kerry turned back for the admit desk.

Susan, who had been assisting to roll a male patient onto a backboard so the nurses could move him into the trauma room, spotted Kerry and ducked out to meet her once the backboard was on the gurney. 

“I just saw a sixteen-year-old cheerleader  _ deck _ a linebacker twice her size square in the face. Knocked him out in one hit,” she said with an air of fascination. “And I immediately ‘what the hell with this place? Why am I here?’ And then I thought, ‘no. You know what? I love this job. Because where the hell do I get to see things like that in real life, huh’?”

Kerry nodded absently as they reached the admit desk. Susan crossed around to the other side while Kerry leaned against it.

“Also,” Susan continued, a smirk growing on her face, “I saw you trying to separate those football players earlier with your crutch. Very nicely done.” 

Kerry, who had set her chin in her hand, looked over at Susan.

“Why do you always get so excited when I do things like that?”

“Because! You’re five-foot-four and you’re full of rage,” Susan said excitedly. “So long as the rage isn’t directed at  _ me,  _ it can be a lot of fun to watch.”

Kerry rolled her eyes. Susan leaned forward towards her. 

“So, who’s your rage directed at today, dear?”

Kerry exhaled in a huff, her hand dropping to the counter. 

“Have you met the new Psych attending?”

“The tall, hot one?”

When Kerry cast her a look that signaled the rage may be redirecting, Susan raised her hands in defense. 

“Sorry,  _ sorry _ ,” she said quickly. “Though, in my defense, I  _ do _ have eyes.” 

Kerry huffed. 

“She said she was happy to know that there were several lesbians working in the ER and she mentioned you. But when I specified that you were bisexual  _ as you asked me to _ , she acted like that didn’t exist.”

Susan shrugged in a“that’s how it is” sort of way. Kerry looked at her in disbelief. 

“Doesn’t that upset you?”

“Well, sure. But it’s also not exactly the first time I’ve heard it,” Susan replied. “Other popular iterations are ‘you’re gay, but you’re confused’, ‘you’re straight, but you’re confused’, or just plain ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about.’”

“She also asked me if I thought you were more likely to cheat on me.” 

Susan grimaced, but gave another acknowledging shrug. 

“Yeah, that’s popular too,” she admitted. “Though to that I’ll say: do you  _ know _ how much effort it takes to keep up an affair? I have a full-time job and two small children. If I was going to cheat on you, I wouldn’t do it while I was still breastfeeding.”

At the look of concern on Kerry’s face, which was in actuality due to the conversation about sexuality and  _ not _ due to Susan’s comment, Susan looked at her seriously. 

“I would never cheat on you.”

Kerry blinked, frowning.

“I know that.”

“Good. You just looked very concerned there for a second.”

Before Kerry could reply, Lucy appeared at her shoulder, breathing hard, her eyes wide.

“A bunch of parents just started fighting outside of Trauma 2 and I called security but they can’t do much.”

Kerry rolled her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. She shook her head.

“That’s it. I’m calling the cops.”

“You mean you haven’t done that already? Susan asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Not yet. I figured the last thing we needed was a bunch of police officers coming in, guns ablaze. God knows if any of those parents are packing too. Riots we can deal with. Gun fights? Not so much.”

Still shaking her head, Kerry turned on the desk clerks to start calling the police. 

Susan was considering whether or not she should try and go help security when the small, blonde firecracker that was her oldest daughter skidded to a halt in front of her and flung her arms around Susan’s waist before looking up at her mother. 

“Mommy, are you done working so we can go home now?”

“Almost.”

Suzie groaned. 

“Is  _ Momma _ done working so we can go home now?”

“ _ Almost, _ ” Susan repeated. “And hello to you too. How was school?”

Suzie let go of Susan. Susan heaved her up onto the desk in front of her just as Suzie crossed her arms. 

“Mrs. Baker took my book again.”

“Were you reading in class?”

“It was during reading time!” Suzie whined. “It’s not  _ my _ fault the other kids have to  _ learn _ how to read.”

Susan did not have time to address this before Suzie spotted Carter down the hall. She perked up immediately, forgetting her previous frustration entirely. 

“Can I go play with Carter?”

“Probably not since Carter’s working too.”

Nevertheless, Susan shouted for the resident, who spun around so fast he nearly dropped the chart in his hand. It turned out he was free after all, so Suzie jumped down from the desk and ran off in his direction.

A second later, Lauren, their new babysitter appeared in front of Susan at the desk with Charlie in her arms. She looked panicked. 

“Please tell me your other daughter is with you.”

“Yes. Well, no, but mean, I know where she is.”

Lauren breathed a sigh of relief and handed Charlie over to Susan, who greeted her younger daughter by kissing her cheek several times and murmuring to her. She giggled, grinning long enough for Susan to see her two tiny little teeth before her thumb went back into her mouth. 

Susan turned Charlie around so she was facing and supported her from underneath. Charlie cooed appreciatively. It had been one of the better ways to hold her when her legs had been spread apart by the harness. Now, without it, Charlie still preferred to be turned around so she could look at everything (namely, her sister). 

She had hit seven months the previous week and had been out of the harness for a month. They were supposed to check in with Anna a few days ago, but she’d had to reschedule due to the arrival of a three-year old in cardiac arrest. While the delay hadn’t bothered Susan, it bothered Kerry. 

“I just wanted to apologize in advance if Suzie has any scrapes on her arms or legs,” Lauren apologize, her panic not seeming to have abated. “After dinner, I took the girls to the park and at one point I turned around to play with the baby for just  _ two _ seconds and when I turned back, Suzie was halfway up a tree.”

“Only halfway? Huh. She must be losing her edge.” At the look of fear on Lauren’s face, Susan gave her a reassuring look. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“I know, I just still feel really bad about the whole marker incident-”

“And I told you, It wasn’t permanent and the baby’s fine.”

“Yes, but I don’t think Dr. Weaver has  _ trusted _ me since then.”

“She probably hasn’t,” Susan said simply, “but don’t take that personally. She didn’t trust me the entire first year we knew each other. And come to think of it, I don’t think I trusted her.”

Lauren looked at Susan, confused.

“Then, how did you get along?”

“We didn’t,” Susan said with a shrug. Charlie babbled something and Susan kissed her once on the cheek. She looked back at Lauren. “We’ve come a long way.”

Lauren nodded slowly for a moment. She looked like she might say something else, but then she saw something over Susan’s shoulder that apparently frightened her. She muttered a quick goodbye and ducked away from the desk. 

Susan turned, frowning, only to see Kerry making her way back. 

She could tell why Lauren had run off so fast just by the look on Kerry’s face. It softened slightly as Charlie babbled excitedly and reached out her hands towards her Momma. 

“Hi Charlie,” she greeted, opening her hands towards Susan, who passed Charlie over to her.

“What did you say to Lauren that scared her so bad?”

Kerry, who had been lifting Charlie over her head while the girl giggled, lowered Charlie back down. She frowned at Susan.

“I didn’t even talk to Lauren today.”

“I meant about the whole marker thing,” Susan clarified. But at Kerry’s replying ‘oh’, she sighed. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

Charlie cried out, so Kerry adjusted her so she was facing forward again. 

“You ready to go see Anna, honey?” she murmured to Charlie before kissing her on the top of the head. 

“Say ‘that’s why Mommy had Lauren bring us here.’”

At this, Kerry looked up. 

“Where’s Suzie?”

“I gave her to Carter,” Susan said, with no further explanation. “You ready?”

Kerry nodded and hoisted Charlie up on her hip. It wasn’t exactly the easiest or most comfortable way to carry her, but the bigger she got, the less of a choice Kerry had. 

They found Anna in one of the pediatric exam rooms catching up on notes. Having seen her two to three times a month for the last seven months or so, Charlie had no problem with Kerry handing her over to the resident.

“How’s she been doing?” Anna asked, sitting Charlie down on the exam table and then looking from Susan to Kerry and back. “Any major concerns over the last month.”

Susan and Kerry exchanged glances before both shook their heads. 

“Not that we can remember,” Susan stated simply. 

“But that doesn’t mean there couldn’t be ongoing concern, correct?” Kerry asked quickly, almost as if she didn’t want Anna to think they hadn’t been paying attention. “You did have her wear it the full six months.”

“That’s true,” Anna said, nodding as she laid Charlie on her back and started negotiating the infant’s legs. “There was still a bit of looseness at three months which is why I kept her in it longer. But it feels like those extra three months did the trick.”

Susan and Kerry both watched her closely as she moved Charlie’s left leg, one hand feeling for any unusual pops or clicks at the hip joint. Then, she straightened up.

“I’m not appreciating anything right now. But to answer your question, Dr. Weaver, yes, you will need to monitor her as she grows. Growth spurts especially, I’d think. And there has even been stuff in the literature about people with developmental dysplasia not knowing they had it until young adulthood.”

Anna heaved a sighed and put her hands on her hips. 

“But for now it looks like we caught it early enough and the treatment worked well.” She lifted Charlie up into her arms. “Isn’t that right, Charlie?”

Charlie giggled, which melted the hearts of all three physicians in proximity. 

Anna handed Charlie back over to Susan and she and Kerry made their way back out towards the admit desk, just in time to hear Suzie cackle. 

When they looked over, they saw she had climbed onto Carter’s back and the resident was now racing through the halls while she laughed in delight.

Simultaneously, and for only  _ slightly _ different reasons, both women figured they were going to need to put a stop to that. But before either of them could, Susan turned to Kerry.

“So, everything’s okay,” she said with a small smile. “I mean… we’re going to have to pay attention as she grows up, but everything’s fine. No long term issues. No need for any casts or surgeries or anything. You can breathe now, right?”

Kerry nodded slightly. Susan smiled and squeezed Kerry’s arm before turning to save Carter from Suzie. 

Kerry soon followed her, but first took a moment to reflect. 

She was indeed  _ very _ relieved at the news. Her fears, though well-founded, were for naught. It simply was just a blip on her timeline. 

But she still took a moment to figure out what the  _ other _ feeling gnawing at her had been. And when she finally did name it, the very thought filled her with so much shame and guilt that she never mentioned it to anyone, least of all Susan. But even never speaking it aloud, it would haunt her off and on for years. 

She had been reassured by Anna’s words. They cleared up so much anxiety and fear. 

And yet, Kerry had still felt a teensy,  _ tiny  _ bit…

Disappointed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all don't hate me for Kerry telling off Kim. She's very important and I like her a lot (and she definitely deserved to be treated a bit better by Kerry), but I won't deny that there was some hardcore biphobia/ bi erasure coming from her at some points. Specifically, the dinner with her friends and the comments about women who had marched at every Pride parade for years but then married men. 
> 
> Also, I want to explain that last bit a little. I don't think I added enough in the last chapter or this one (which is a mistake on my part) but I think that one part of Kerry's struggle with Charlie's hip is that I think she would have a least a little bit of mixed feelings. Overwhelmingly, she would be concerned and scared, but I think there'd be a least a little bit of her that didn't necessarily  _hope_ that it would be a long-term problem, but that subconsciously didn't want to be alone.
> 
> For seven months, in the limbo of not knowing how much of an impact there'd be on Charlie, Kerry's subconscious would be debating over two possible outcomes: no lasting effects or, for the first time, someone being like her. She'd been a bit separated from everyone else her entire life and, for a brief moment, her daughter might have been like her. They could have had each other. Hence, a teensy, tiny bit of disappointment. 
> 
> I hope that makes sense. As always, if it doesn't, or if you don't agree, let me know. 
> 
> We're in the home stretch, folx. But, trust me... there's still a lot in store. As always, thanks for sticking with it.
> 
> Until next time. 
> 
>  


	32. Chapter 32

Kerry sat on a stool in front of the computer at the admit desk.

She was deeply engrossed in her work until the moment Susan walked up in front of her, let out a long groan, and collapsed onto the desk. 

Kerry glanced up over the rim of her glasses, her hands not moving from the keyboard.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

Susan ran her hands over her face and heaved a sigh. She leaned as far over the desk as she could and dropped her voice to an urgent whisper.

“Elizabeth is  _ pregnant _ .”

“I know, dear,” Kerry said flatly, “you’ve told me twice already.”

Susan clenched her fists in frustration.

“I know,” she said in a tone reminiscent of her oldest daughter’s characteristic whine, “but Elizabeth hasn’t told Mark yet and it’s the  _ only _ thing I can think about when I see him… and I can’t tell  _ him _ , so I have to tell you.”

“Do I need to institute a limit on how many times you can tell me?”

Susan rolled her eyes. 

“ _ No _ . She’s going to tell him soon, I’m sure. She’s just been distracted by this whole lawsuit thing.” Susan paused. “She  _ better _ tell him soon. Or I might explode.”

Kerry let out a chuckle before returning to her work on the computer.

“Hey, Susan?”

Mark appeared at her shoulder.

“Hmmm?’

“Any chance you could come help me do something real quick?”

“Sure,” she said happily. 

Mark nodded and disappeared again. Susan watched him walk him away, still smiling, before she turned back to Kerry, her eyes wide. 

She gave Kerry a pleading look. Kerry frowned.

“I’m not gonna go help him.”

“ _ Please _ ? This is torture.”

“Suck it up.”

Susan scoffed before heaving a dramatic sigh and turning down the hall in the direction Mark had gone. 

Kerry chuckled again and shook her head slightly.

It was times like these that she didn’t have to question where Suzie got it from.

Susan found Mark in an empty exam room. 

She’d carefully avoided him since learning Elizabeth’s news so as not to let anything slip, but alone in the same room as him for the first time since, she couldn’t help but stare at him a little  _ too _ eagerly..

“What’s wrong with you?”

Susan inhaled deeply and had to physically hold fingers in front of her mouth to keep her from saying anything. 

“I know secrets… About you…” Susan said slowly, willing her excitement to die down. “That Elizabeth told me.”

Mark frowned in confusion.

“How could Elizabeth have told you? I haven’t told her yet.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. What are  _ you _ talking about?”

“ _ Mark _ ,” Susan said warningly. 

Mark looked down at the hospital bed that separated the pair of them. He rolled his neck back and forth for a moment before he heaved a sigh.

“Last week,” he began slowly, “I was working with a patient and I just… stopped talking. In the middle of a sentence. Just… all of a sudden I couldn’t get any words out.”

Susan’s brow furrowed. 

“Like… physically? Or-or you just lost what you were saying?”

She had the feeling she knew the answer, but she couldn’t help but ask. If only in the hope that she was wrong. 

“Physically,” Mark replied. “Aphasia. It came out of nowhere. And I mean, it came back. It passed. But…”

“But it scared you,” Susan finished for him. 

Mark nodded. 

“So… I went upstairs and got an MRI. I thought maybe that hockey check a couple weeks ago had given me a concussion or something.” He exhaled deeply and then looked Susan straight in the eye. “Glioblastoma multiforme. All set to invade my Broca’s area.”

Every ounce of oxygen, from the breath in her lungs to the molecules carried through her blood, left Susan’s body at once. 

At her stunned silence, Mark sighed. The action filled Susan with dread and guilt, though she knew at that moment there was no way she could have said anything. 

“Have…” she said after a few minutes of gathering back her breath and words. “Have-have you talked to a neurosurgeon?”

Mark nodded slowly. 

“And?”

Mark gave her the tiniest bit of a smirk that almost immediately faded into a look of defeat. 

He shook his head.

Susan’s chest seized as she clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the wracking sobs spilling out.

Mark hadn’t cried yet. His head had been too busy spinning with thoughts and questions and fear. But seeing Susan’s reaction, he couldn’t help but tear up just the tiniest bit. 

Because, suddenly, it all felt real. 

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Mark said. “I haven’t told Elizabeth yet. I don’t… I don’t know how.”

The little bit of breathiness in his voice made Susan cry all the harder. 

“I mean…” Mark let out a small, derisive chuckle. “I mean, I just asked her to marry me. What do I say now? ‘Hey, let’s go to Vegas because I’m gonna be dead in six months.’”

Susan hissed, “don’t say that,” but in between her sobs, it came out more like a hiccup. 

“There’s-there’s… There’s other things than surgery,” Susan said, shaking her head. “There’s chemo and-and radiation. And… And that was only one surgeon, right? There’s what? Dozens of neurosurgeons? Hundreds? You can get a second opinion. You can talk to other people. I mean, for God’s sake, your fiancée's a  _ surgeon _ . She’s gotta know somebody.”

The longer she spoke, the less she knew if she was saying this for Mark’s benefit or for her own.

She bit her hip hard and looked up at the ceiling.

“You need to talk to Elizabeth.”

“I will soon. I just-”

“You need to talk to her  _ now _ ,” Susan said, cutting him off. “Today. Now.”

“She’s has this whole court thing,” Mark pressed on. “I don’t want to distract her from that. It’s a malpractice suit. If she loses…”

“She’s not going to fucking care, Mark,” Susan said firmly. “You need to talk to her.  _ Tonight _ .”

Mark said nothing, but it was clear he was still debating it in his head.

“She’ll- I’ll… We’ll help you find something. Because… Because…” Susan took a deep breath. “I can’t speak for her, but I’m not going to let you get away with just not doing anything. You deserve to see your wedding, Mark. You deserve to m-”

Susan stopped herself from finishing the sentence by clapping her hand back over her mouth, which admittedly helped as she felt her chest tense, ready to heave. At the sudden pause, Mark looked up.

“What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said…” Susan squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment. “I said you deserve to talk to Elizabeth.”

 

“Has anyone seen Dr. Lewis?” Kerry asked after her third complete lap of the ER without spotting Susan. “Did she… Did she leave?”

The nurses and physicians around her all shrugged. All except for Carter, who slowly stepped away from the desk, a signal for Kerry to do the same. 

“I think she’s up on the roof,” he said quietly. 

Kerry frowned. 

“Is there a chopper coming in? I didn’t hear it on the radio.”

Carter just shook his head. 

The roof was not a place Kerry went often. Mark usually took the traumas that were flown in, so she didn’t have to. 

But on this particular night, stepping out of the elevator onto the helipad allowed her to breathe a sigh of relief. 

Susan was leaning against the half-wall on the other side of the roof, backlit by the city lights. 

She didn’t turn around as Kerry approached her, even though Kerry knew she could hear her coming given the way Susan’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. 

As she lifted her lit cigarette to her lips, she turned her head slightly, to glance at Kerry out of the side of her eye.

“If you say one word about lung cancer, I swear to God I will throw you off the roof.”

Kerry said nothing, just leaned against the half-wall herself. She picked up the nearly-empty carton next sitting on the ledge.

“That goes for those too,” Susan warned. “You throw them, I throw you.”

But Kerry didn’t throw the carton. Instead, she picked up the lighter off the ledge, lit one of the cigarettes, and took a long drag on it. 

When Susan raised an eyebrow at her, Kerry shrugged, wrapping her arms tight against her against the chilly breeze of the night.

“If you’re going to come home smelling like smoke, I might as well too,” Kerry said quietly, tapping the ash on the ledge with the technique of someone who had clearly done this before. She looked over at Susan. “What happened? Did you tell him?”

Susan let out a chuckle and shook her head. She took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled deeply, the smoke mixing with her warm breath misting in the night air. 

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head as a bitter smirk grew on her face. “I told him- I was… teasing him. Told him I knew a secret about him that Elizabeth told me and… And he said, ‘how could Elizabeth have told you, I haven’t told her yet.’”

“What do you mean?”

Susan closed her eyes and took another long drag on the cigarette, hoping the little jolt of nicotine would make her feel just a  _ little _ bit better. (It didn’t.)

Susan opened her eyes, looking out over the city at night. 

“Mark has an inoperable brain tumor.”

Kerry’s head snapped towards Susan so fast, she thought she could hear the bones in her neck crack. 

“ _ What? _ ”

But Susan could not reply.

The butt of her hand was pressed hard against her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut as silent sobs wracked her body. The smoke of the cigarette held tight between her fingers rose in swirling twists over her head, like some kind of living crown. 

She drew in a deep breath and looked up. 

“Yep. That’s what he told me,” she said shakily. “And the neurosurgeon here said there was nothing that could be done.”

“Well, there’s…” Kerry’s mind was jumping from thought to thought so fast, she could hardly get the words out. “The field of-of oncology is improving everyday. New chemotherapies and… and there’s been promising advances in radiation oncology...”

“I know,” Susan said, nodding. “I told him that. But… But there still might not be anything that can be done.”

Kerry made to put her arm around Susan, but before she could Susan turned on her, her finger raised. 

“And I am telling you this as my wife,  _ not _ my boss,” Susan said quickly. “If you use this against him… if-if you try and-”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I swear I’ll-”

“I  _ wouldn’t _ ,” Kerry reassured her firmly. 

Susan did not argue further, but continued on.

“And he hasn’t told Elizabeth yet…And she’s  _ pregnant. _ ” Susan threw her head back, tears streaming from the side of her eyes. She shook her head. “What if he doesn’t make it to nine months? What if he doesn’t get the chance to meet his new baby?”

Kerry took one last drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out next to the multiple ones Susan had stubbed out already.

She then stepped sideways closer to Susan and wrapped her arm around Susan’s waist. She leaned her head against Susan’s shoulder. 

“I can’t watch him die.”

Kerry’s heart broke.

She looked up at Susan, who was now staring out over the city lights, looking as distant now as she had felt present a moment ago. 

Sensing Kerry watching her, Susan looked down at her and found Kerry looking at her, her eyes filled with sympathy and sorrow. 

Susan let out a deep sigh.

“Do you have any… advice?”

Kerry cocked her head slightly in question, her brow furrowing. 

“Advice?”

“I don’t know.  _ Something _ ,” Susan said, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions. “I mean you always have an answer for everything. You always have  _ something _ to say.”

But Kerry just looked at her sadly. And shook her head. 

“There’s only one thing I could offer.”

“I’ll take anything.”

Kerry grimaced and shook her head. 

“It sounds like a cop-out,” she said slowly, “and I don’t think it’ll work.”

“ _ Anything.” _

Kerry brushed a piece of hair out of Susan’s face before leaning her head back against Susan’s shoulder. 

“Pray for a miracle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. 
> 
> So, we're into Season 7 now... And we know what happens in Season 7, right? And we also remember what happens in Season  _8_... right?
> 
> I'm not going to say anything further, but I'd just like to make sure that you all are, let's say...emotionally prepared for what's to come.
> 
> On a happier note, this fic has surpassed 100k words! It officially surpassed the longest thing I've ever written at the end of the last chapter, but, as a fanfiction writer, this is almost a bigger accomplishment. I have never broken 100k before, so I think that means I've leveled up in fanfiction. 
> 
> Fun fact: the work that this work surpassed as longest thing I've written was a fanfiction I wrote last spring for the movie _The Shape of Water_ where one of the characters adopts another one of the characters as a baby and raises her as his own. Also, along the way, he falls in love with someone of his own gender. Sounds pretty familiar, right?
> 
> In other words, when it comes to writing fanfiction, I have a niche. A very _specific_ niche. 
> 
> Not so fun fact: the best parts of that fic (in my opinion) were the parts where the characters have to face grief over losing a loved one. So... just keep that in consideration as we move forward. 
> 
> Also, though I think I continued to update pretty regularly during the term, I'm out of class for the summer and therefore have no more homework to do. So, you should be able to expect more pretty quick updates. I don't know if I'll do every day, but it'll continue to be pretty quick.
> 
> Anyways, I love you all. Please don't cry too hard. And as always, thanks for sticking with it. 
> 
> Until next time.


	33. Chapter 33

The months that followed proved to be the worst emotional roller coaster ride Susan had ever been through. And that included the sudden and unexpected departure of her sister which resulted in her taking custody of Suzie. 

Elizabeth, to her credit, kept them well-informed. 

After Rachel (and by extension Jen), Susan was the first person she called after Mark’s surgery. 

When she told Susan that Mark had had a seizure in the middle of the surgery, Susan had had to sit down for a solid ten minutes. Though Elizabeth reassured her that everything after had gone fine, that Mark was out of surgery and recovering well, Susan remained frozen to her seat. 

It took Charlie dropping a block onto her toe to finally snap her out of it. 

That was why when February rolled around and Mark was cleared to return to work, albeit in small increments, Susan was nearly beside herself. 

He was at his locker in the lounge, tying on a surgical cap over his still-recent scar, when Susan slid up next to him, an almost giddy smile on her face. 

“What do you think?” he said, indicating to the cap. “Can’t tell, right?”

“Well, since you’re the only one wearing it, I’m sure people will be able to tell  _ something _ . But we can just say you’re trying to start a new fashion trend.”

“Well, maybe I am,” Mark said, carefully adjusting it so it was center on his head. “Surgical caps. The hottest thing in ER fashion.”

Susan smiled broadly again and, without warning, pulled him into a hug. Mark hugged her back, chuckling.

“You’re certainly in a good mood,” he said, grinning himself.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Susan asked in rhetorical disbelief. “You’re here. You’re  _ here _ and you’re okay and… well, you’re a little balder than usual, but I’m sure it’ll grow back.”

“I’ve been telling myself that since I was-”

Susan’s brow furrowed for a brief moment as Mark’s mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. There was frustration clear in his eyes, like he knew what he was trying to say and couldn’t get it out.

“-seventeen,” he said finally. He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s the- the aphasia. It comes and goes.”

Susan nodded, though admittedly her heart stopped briefly any time that she heard the word “aphasia” or “seizure” or, God, even “tumor”. (Needless to say, this made her shifts in the  _ emergency department _ a bit difficult to deal with.)

“Well, that’s why you’re going to be taking it easy for a while, right?” she said, taking a deep breath. Then, she straightened up and smiled again. She poked him playfully on the shoulder. “And I’m supposed to make sure that you actually  _ do _ . That’s why I’m scheduled with you. I’m your chaperone.”

“My chaperone?”

“Yep,” Susan confirmed. “Here to make sure you take it easy, don’t throw yourself into things too fast, don’t get into hanky-panky on the dance floor.”

She raised a finger at him.

“I’ll let you dance with Elizabeth but you have to stay this far apart.” She indicated a distance of about twelve inches. “Leave room for Jesus.” 

Mark laughed and she leaned into his shoulder happily, squeezing his arm tight. 

“Let me guess,” he said, chuckling, “this was your wife’s idea.”

Susan scoffed in mock offense. 

“Not  _ everything _ I do is her idea,” she said rolling her eyes. “In this case, it was  _ your _ wife’s idea. Well, your  _ future  _ wife… And okay, it was a  _ little _ bit my wife’s idea… And a bit my idea too.”

Not too thrilled with the prospect of Elizabeth, Susan,  _ and _ Kerry plotting behind his back, Mark shook his head. 

“Come on. It’s gonna be just you and me. Just like old times. Before babies and relationships and all that stuff,” Susan continued. “Back when it was just you and me and Doug and Carol. And Carter was upstairs with Peter.”

“You really think we can pretend that when those we’re in relationships with are walking around out there?” Mark asked, raising his brow and motioning towards the lounge door.

“I can pretend not to like Kerry for five minutes,” Susan said with a shrug. “Depending on the day, the longer she talks, the easier it gets.”

Mark turned back to his locker to finish getting his things when the lounge door opened and Kerry backed her way in, her hands full with heavy-looking binders. 

“Mark,” Kerry greeted, smiling as she turned towards them. “Glad to see you. Welcome back.”

She set the binders down on the table as she crossed towards them. She smiled pleasantly at them both until she saw the glare that Susan had assumed. She frowned. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

Susan just pretended to glare harder, earning her a look of immense confusion.

“Don’t worry about her,” Mark instructed. “So… Just coming on?”

“No, just leaving actually,” Kerry said, tearing her eyes away from Susan to address Mark. “But don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of physicians on right now, so your four hours should go pretty smoothly. No need to work too hard.”

“Good to know.”

“And if you need anything, you have you’re, uh…” She looked at Susan, her brow furrowed. “What was it you called it? Hall monitor?”

“ _ Chaperone _ ,” Susan corrected. “I’m not no damn hall monitor.”

“ _ Okay _ ,” Kerry said slowly, throwing up a hand in defense. She rolled her eyes and looked back to Mark. “Anyways. You’ve got plenty of people behind you. It’s a short shift. Please take it easy.”

“I will.”

But Kerry fixed him with a sternly raised brow, the kind that had most recently been used to halt Suzie from continuing rhyme words with “bell” even when told to stop.

_ “Please,”  _ she reported firmly. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

“I promise,” Mark replied, nodding. 

Kerry inhaled, seemingly unconvinced, but she said nothing further to him. She just looked towards Susan and held out a hand. 

“Can I have your keys, please?”

“What do you need my keys for?”

Kerry’s brow furrowed. 

“Because my car’s in the shop?” Then Kerry shrugged. “Unless you want me to bring the girls home on the El later…”

“Oh, right!” Susan said, breaking her false glare as she remembered. “ _ That’s _ why. I forgot that part.”

Susan turned for her locker. Kerry frowned at her back for a moment before turning for her own locker. When she had stepped forward and was sure that Mark blocked her from Susan’s view, she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, “keep an eye on her too for me, will you?”

 

The ambulance bay doors opened with a bang as paramedics Pickford and Olbes started pushing the gurney in.

Susan and Mark, who were closest to the doors, immediately sprang into action. 

“What have we got?”

“42-year-old white male with foreign object lodged in his throat,” Pickford replied. “Neighbor said it was a rock blown by a leaf blower.”

“Vitals?”

“Pressure 130/80, pulse 120,” Olbes replied. “Resps 24. Extremities are cyanotic.”

They pushed open the doors to Trauma 1 and proceeded to lift the gurney up onto the trauma table. 

“Get me an 8-0 ET tube and a scope,” Susan instructed as Mark started listening to the man’s breathing (or lack thereof).

“He’s not moving any air.”

“I know, I know,” Susan replied as Lydia passed her the tube and scope. 

She flicked the scope open and opened the man’s mouth.

“We, I can’t see  _ anything _ ,” Susan muttered. She held out the tube for someone to take. “McGill forceps.”

Lydia swapped the tube for the forceps and Susan tried again .

“He’s gonna need a trake,” Mark said. “Someone open a M-M…”

Susan glanced up at Mark, her forceps pausing in her hand. 

He blinked hard a couple times, his mouth working wordlessly again for a moment.

“Melker kit,” he finished. “Open a Melker kit and page Surgery.”

He shook his head a couple times as if trying to clear the invisible blockage from it. He glanced briefly back at Susan, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you good?”

He nodded. 

Suddenly remembering the patient in front of her, she turned her attention back to the scope. She scoffed and pulled the forceps out.  

“I’m not gonna be able to move this thing without ripping a hole in his windpipe.” 

“And none of us want that, do we, Dr. Lewis?” a familiar voice asked as its owner entered the room. 

Romano paused in the doorway to observe the scene for a moment. When he noticed Mark, his brow rose to his (nonexistent) hairline. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the miraculous boy wonder himself,” Romano stated. “I’d call you Scarface, but it’s a little too high up for that.”

“Just shut up and trake him,” Susan said, rolling her eyes.

“Ah, yes,” Romano said, nodding as he stepped around the table to better assess the patient. “Lizzie did say you had a whole army of defenders down here.”

“Yep. And you better watch out for Susan, because he fights dirty.”

Romano did not seem to notice the slip as he just asked for a ten blade and started to make an incision in the man’s throat. 

Susan, however, looked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. Mark didn’t return the look. He just watched Romano.

“Tube?” Romano said. 

A nurse handed the trake to him and he inserted it in the incision he just made. 

Instinctively, the staff looked at the monitor. Everyone, that is, except for Susan. 

She continued to look at Mark, even though he had already taken his stethoscope off from around his neck and placed one end on the man’s chest again.

“Sats are rising,” Lydia announced. 

“Good breath sounds,” Mark added.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Romano said. He tapped the side rail of the gurney twice. “Alright. Let’s get him upstairs.”

Mark inhaled deeply and took a step back as Romano and the nurses started wheeling the patient towards the elevator so they could get him upstairs and prepped for surgery.

Susan hung back as well, still observing Mark curiously.

It took a moment for the group to get out the doors, but once they had done so, Mark and Susan were left alone.

Mark let out a deep breath and looked at her expectantly. She cocked her head to one side. 

“What?”

“Did you just call me ‘he’?”

Mark blinked. 

“No.”

“I think you did,” she said slowly. “Yeah, I’m… I’m pretty certain I just heard you say ‘watch out for Susan,  _ he _ fights dirty.’ And those are  _ not  _ my pronouns, man.”

She half-expected Mark to laugh or apologize. But instead, he just let out a small almost impatient sigh.

Susan observed him closely for a moment. 

“Maybe you should take a break.”

Mark let out the huff he had been holding back since Susan pointed out the pronoun mix-up.

“I don’t need to take a break. I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine,” Susan pointed out a little defensively. “But… but we’ve been seeing patients for over an hour. Maybeit’s time to take a break. 

“I mean, you just had brain surgery. That is  _ literally _ the  _ best _ excuse anyone ever has for not doing work.”

“I don’t want to not do work,” Mark pushed back. “I haven’t worked for weeks. It’s… It’s just a little residual aphasia. It’ll pass. I just… I just want to do my work.”

“Then, you’re not going to like what I’m going to say next.”

Mark said nothing, but rather stared at her. His eyes were filled with focus, indignation, and, unless she was mistaken, a touch of fear.

Whether she realized it or not, Susan had crossed her arms. Susan inhaled deeply and then let it out as a deep sigh. 

“I think you should stay out of traumas for a while.”

Mark rolled his eyes and shook his head, scoffing.

“Susan, I’m  _ fine _ .”

“Mark, you couldn’t remember the word in the middle of a trauma,” she continued, trying to sound firm though each word hurt to say. “This time… this time, we had a couple seconds to spare and, even if we didn’t, we probably could have figured out what you meant. But we won’t always have that chance.”

“ _ God _ , you sound like Kerry,” Mark said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, occupational hazard of living with her.” Susan expression softened. “Mark, I’m your best friend. You  _ know _ I would never say this unless I honestly thought it was the best thing for you.”

Mark opened his mouth to speak again. For a moment, Susan thought it was another moment of aphasia. But given the way he closed his eyes and shook his head, she knew it was him choosing not to say whatever it was he was going to say.

For a moment, they just stood there in silence.

Mark seemed to look everywhere but at her. At one point, he fiddled with the surgical cap atop his head. Susan thought of the thick dark scar underneath it, still slightly pink at healed. 

Her mind took her to back the description Elizabeth had given her of the brain surgery where he had nearly died on the table. Then, it took her back even further. Right back to the day where he had told her. 

“It’s February.”

Mark looked up at her.

Susan’s eyes pricked with tears. 

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s February, Mark. You’re getting married in two months,” she repeated, her words becoming a little bit shakier. “Three months ago, we didn’t even know if you’d make it to Christmas.”

“But you  _ did _ ,” she said in a small voice edged with tears and awe. “You’re still  _ here _ . You  _ came back _ . And- and- and…. And I really didn’t think you were going to. But you  _ did _ .”

Susan blinked back tears, much as she had done so often in recent months, before letting out a watery chuckle.

“You got a second chance, Mark. You got this new life, this second chance… Don’t waste it on this place. Because it will suck the  _ life  _ out of you. Every last ounce of energy, of-of  _ soul _ you have. And you have such better things to put that energy towards.”

Susan stepped forward towards Mark and took his hand. She squeezed it tight, willing him to feel how serious she was through her touch.

“I’m just saying,” she said shakily, “for the next couple weeks, maybe a month… When an ambulance pulls up, go sit down in the lounge for a while and-and…And daydream about your wedding. Or your baby. Go upstairs and kiss Elizabeth or call Rachel,  _ just because you can _ . Because you’re still here. Because you made it  _ back _ .”

Susan closed her eyes for a moment before inhaling deeply through her nose. When she opened her eyes again, she squeezed his hand hard once more. 

“You have the rest of your life to work here, Mark. Don’t willingly hand over any more of it than you have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short(er) chapter that involves Mark, Susan, and a lot of crying on Susan's part. This, however, was a far more hopeful chapter than the last one. But, you know, still kind of sad too.
> 
> Not much to say about this chapter other than that we will return to a brief, hopeful timeline for at least a little while longer. Also, we will return to the regularly scheduled very long chapters in the next one. But I think you're really going to enjoy it. At the very least, I will enjoy writing it. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Until next time. 


	34. Chapter 34

Kerry pushed open the door to the conference room with a huff. 

“Let’s make this quick,” she said sternly, looking down at her watch, “because I need to go pick my daughter up from school.”

She let out another exasperated huff as she glanced around the room. 

Kim Legaspi sat on one end of the table, opposite Robert Romano and a couple other white men Kerry only knew in passing, along with Dr. Anspaigh, who looked frustrated. The scene looked both like a trial and a very, very bad job interview. 

“Thank you for joining us, Dr. Weaver,” one of the men said flatly. “Though you should have been here a few minutes ago when we started.”

“Yes, well,  _ I  _ have a department to run and patients to see,” Kerry snapped in reply. “Or perhaps the fact that you are giving any credit to the ridiculous charges against Dr. Legaspi has made you forget that you are  _ physicians _ who are supposed to be  _ helping  _ people?”

When the men did not say anything to this, Kerry inhaled and then exhaled, ready to begin her defense.

“This girl parked her car in front of a train,” Kerry stated in a tone that wouldn’t be out of place in a court of law. “She parked her car in front of a train because she was gay and she could not possibly fathom any other alternative for herself. 

“Do you  _ know _ how much you have to hate yourself to think like that? How many times you have to hear that’s the only reasonable answer before you take it into yourself and believe it? And the fact that all of you sit around and give credit to charges like these just adds to those same messages that pushed her to do it in the first place.

“And that’s not even  _ considering _ the fact that she has very clear, very  _ serious  _ psychological problems that resulted in a mass casualty incident. Which, at least in  _ my  _ opinion, means nothing she says should be taken seriously.”

“We’re not debating that the patient in question does not have psychological concerns,” the other man said with a sigh. “What we’re debating is whether or not Dr. Legaspi coming out to this girl during the course of psychiatric treatment constitutes improper advances against her.”

Kerry let out a derisive laugh.

“Coming  _ out  _ to someone is not the same thing as coming  _ on  _ to them,” she said with a scoff. “It’s merely stating a fact about yourself to another person. A fact, I should add, is utterly terrifying to share with another person as you have no clue how they may react to it.”

“Yes, but the  _ personal _ nature of this fact-”

“Oh my  _ God _ ,” Kerry said, cutting him off. She rolled her eyes. “Straight male doctors share personal facts with straight male patients all the time. Straight female doctors share personal facts with straight female patients all the time. Straight male doctors  _ hit on _ straight female patients  _ all the damn time _ and we  _ never _ sit and have conversations about that, now do we? Well... I say  _ never _ .”

Her eyes flicked towards Robert Romano for the briefest of seconds. She was filled with a moment of satisfaction as she saw his shoulders tense. 

“Dr. Legaspi came out to this girl to tell her, to  _ show _ her, that being gay wasn’t the end of the world. That you  _ can _ be happy and successful and enjoy your life even when you’re gay. And, often times,  _ because  _ of it.”

She turned and laid a reassuring hand on Kim’s shoulder.

“Kim, I am so sorry you have to put up with all of this.”

Kim replied with an uncertain but still grateful smile.

Then, Kerry turned back to the men seated at the other end of the table. 

Anspaugh looked satisfied, as if he knew bringing Kerry into the mix would put an end to all this nonsense. The other men, including Romano, looked annoyed, but knew when they had been served.

Kerry glanced at her watch again.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get my daughter from school or I will have a very irate five-year-old on my hands. And if you think  _ I’m  _ bad when I’m upset, you haven’t met Suzie.”

And with that, Kerry turned from the door. Anspaugh rose  from his seat as well and so did Kim, who took this as the end of the conversation and all the bullshit surrounding it. Kerry stepped aside to let them leave first. 

Behind her, once he was sure Anspaugh was out of earshot, Romano let out a sigh.

“Well, gentlemen,” he muttered, looking at Kerry’s back, knowing full well she could hear him, “I’m not sure what else we could expect from County’s own personal lesbian advocate.”

She turned to face him and his expectation of increased anger on her part he might be able to sell as some kind of female hysteria was dashed instantly at the self-righteous look on her face.

“You know what Robert? You’re right. I am the Chief of Emergency Services  _ and _ County’s lesbian advocate. Somebody’s gotta do it and it’s not like any of the  _ rest _ of you give me any help in this damn hospital.”

 

Susan was walking out of a trauma, peeling off her trauma gown and removing her goggles after a particularly bloody trauma involving a stage feud, a prop that turned out to be real, and a  _ very _ realistic performance of  _ Sweeney Todd _ that ended up being highly reviewed in the  _ Chicago Tribune _ the next day. 

(Audiences at subsequent performances reported the show, though well done, did  _ not _ live up to the hype.)

She was thinking seriously of a stop off at the bathroom when she saw Kerry at the admit desk, gathering things up. Susan made a beeline for her, ending up in front of her with a wide-eyed look of sincerity on her face. 

“What are you still doing here?” she asked with a send of urgency in her voice. “Suzie’s gonna be  _ pissed _ .”

“Suzie can hold her horses.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. 

“Have you tried telling  _ Suzie _ that?” Susan frowned as Kerry straightened a stack of charts. “What are you still doing here?”

“I had to go upstairs and yell at people about being gay,” Kerry said in a frustrated tone as she patted the pockets of her lab coat for a pen so she could sign off on the remaining charts. 

“Out of context, you sound  _ massively _ homophobic.”

Kerry looked at her, her brow momentarily furrowing in confusion. Then, she considered the words for a moment and gave a shrug of acknowledgement. 

“I guess you’re right,” she muttered, scribbling her signature on the chart in front of her. “Oh, and I have a new title. I am officially County General’s lesbian advocate.”

“God, your ambition just knows  _ no _ bounds, does it?” Susan asked rhetorically, shaking her head. “I assume it’s self-appointed?”

“ _ No _ , actually. It was Robert Romano’s idea,” Kerry informed her.  “Well, it was his  _ title _ . But I intend to use it.”

She shrugged out of her lab coat and then started around the desk, pausing briefly to kiss Susan on the cheek.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Unless Suzie murders you in cold blood.”

Kerry rolled her eyes and continued on towards the lounge. 

“ _ Susan _ ,” a tired yet frustrated voice said in a British accent from somewhere behind her. 

Susan spun around, ready to go.

“What did he do? I’ll kick his ass.”

“It’s not Mark,” Elizabeth sighed, putting a hand on Susan’s shoulder to steady herself. “It’s this  _ baby. How _ did you get through the third trimester, because I can’t  _ do  _ this anymore.”

Elizabeth’s teeth clenched more with each word until she was practically grunting.

“Tylenol, Pepcid, and pizza,” Susan replied. “It was why I needed so much Pepcid.”

Elizabeth groaned.

“Also, the repeated affirmation that it was my decision to do it?” Susan offered. But at Elizabeth’s glare, she added, “and the medical knowledge of what happens when babies are born too soon.”

This seemed to do it, as Elizabeth’s glare softened back into her look of exhausted frustration. 

“Come on. Come sit down,” Susan instructed in an encouraging, gentle voice as she dragged a chair over to the very pregnant surgeon.

Elizabeth sighed, but sat down anyways.

“Also, as you’re within thirty days of the wedding, you have a standing order for ass-kickings,” Susan stated. “I mean… he’s my best friend, so you  _ always _ have a standing order for ass-kickings, but especially right now.”

Elizabeth nodded and breathed deeply, unconsciously running her hand over her stomach.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Oh, and Susan?”

“Do you want me to order you pizza?”

Elizabeth nodded sheepishly. Susan gave her a look of deepest empathy. 

“Of course.”

 

The following month was fairly uneventful. The charges against Dr. Legaspi were dropped and everything returned to normal. Or at least as normal as it  _ could _ be in the final days before the forthcoming Greene-Corday wedding. 

The day of the wedding, Susan found herself in the emergency department, because _ of course _ she did. 

Kerry had risen early and taken the El in with the intention of getting some work done. She had taken her clothes for the wedding with her, signaling her intention of Susan picking her up before they headed to the cathedral.

She was dressed and ready to go in her blazer, slacks, and purple floral blouse that may or may not have been explicitly chosen to go with the dress Susan had chosen to wear: a sheer, deep purple floor-length number that cut high across her shoulders. (Seeing in her in it made Kerry’s cheeks burn every time.) 

The person she found  _ unprepared _ to go was none other than the groom himself. 

Kerry was ready to walk out the door when Susan spotted the back of Mark’s bald head and immediately made for it. When she poked him hard on the shoulder he turned and smiled at the sight of her set jaw and burning glare.

“Hi, Susan. You look nice.”

“Thanks. I’m going to a wedding.  _ Yours _ .” She punched him hard in the shoulder. “What are you still doing here?”

Before he could answer her, she clenched her jaw even more and raised a threatening finger at him.

“You aren’t backing out, are you? Because I swear to God Mark, I’ll beat you twice.”

“Why twice?”

“Once for Elizabeth and once for me,” she informed him seriously. “I don’t want Elizabeth to start swinging and the baby pop out.”

Mark chuckled at the thought. Though she had been the one to make the joke, the fact that he was  _ chuckling _ and not  _ leaving _ made Susan’s nostrils flare.

“I’m not backing out, I promise,” he assured her.

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“I’m leaving soon. I just had a couple things to take care of.”

“You are  _ going _ to be  _ late _ ,” Susan pushed. 

“I’ll be fine. And, hey, you’re in the wedding too and you’re not there yet either.”

“I’m reading a Bible verse, not the one actually getting married,” Susan said, crossing her arms.  

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Any chance I could get a ride with you? Since you’re already here?”

Susan closed her eyes in annoyance.

“Of course you can,” she said through gritted teeth. “If it means that you get to the wedding before Elizabeth starts hunting you down. But you have to at  _ least _ tell me you’ve got your tux with you. Because I swear Mark-”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Mark said, nodding. “It’s in my locker. Let me go get in and then we’ll go.”

Susan shot him one more look of frustrated exasperation, but then nodded him towards the lounge door as if to say “get going.”

She watched him go for a moment before groaning and turning back towards Kerry.

“Why did you schedule him today?” she hissed as she drew even with her wife. 

“I made the schedule long before they had a date,” Kerry snapped in reply. “And you specifically the  _ evening _ of the 21st. When I offered him an early shift, he said it was okay.”

“Why did you offer one  _ at all _ ?” Susan asked, her hands raised in indignation. 

“You told me the 21st. I didn’t know what the 21st  _ was _ .”

“Oh my  _ God, _ ” Susan scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Is about the invitation thing  _ again _ ? Kerry, I told you, Elizabeth and I did not think it was worth the postage to send one because I was in the wedding and it was assumed you were coming with me-”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Kerry said, her brow rising, “but an assumption is not an RSVP, is it?”

Susan closed her eyes and put her fingers to her temples. 

“What are even arguing for?” she asked, more to herself than to Kerry. “I came over to tell you that we’re taking Mark to the wedding.”

“ _ You _ were the one who brought up scheduling him,” Kerry muttered. 

“Whatever,” Susan said, shaking her head. She opened her eyes and sighed. “We are taking Mark to the wedding.”

“Okay,” Kerry said nodding, before adding as an aside, “assuming I was even  _ invited _ .”

“Oh my God.” Susan pulled the keys out of her purse and handed them to Kerry. “Go get in the car or you won’t get to go to this wedding after all.”

Kerry must have believed Susan’s threat, as she snatched the keys out of Susan’s hand and started fiddling with her umbrella. 

Within minutes, the three of them were piling into Susan’s car. 

Susan, having realized that Kerry would probably refuse to break the speed limit, even to get to the wedding on time, took the keys back and climbed into the driver’s seat. Mark offered the passenger’s seat to Kerry, who declined, as it was his wedding day. 

Traffic was not very smooth and they almost got stuck behind some kind of accident up ahead, but they ended up getting to the church just in time. 

Huddling under Kerry’s umbrella, they made their way up the stairs and past the judgemental looks of the ushers at the doors.

Once inside, Susan turned on Mark.

“You, go get dressed and get in your place,” she said firmly, before turning on Kerry. “You, go find us somewhere to sit. And,  _ no _ , I don’t care what side, so long as you leave me a seat on the end.” 

“And where are you going?”

“I’m going to go tell Elizabeth to put the gun away,” she said firmly. “Now,  _ go _ .”

Susan spun back around and started towards the dressing room, which was back in the depths of the church off of a hallway to the right of the entrance. 

As she did so, the urgency of organ music starting pushed her into a light jog, which was  _ very _ unfortunate given that she was wearing pumps.

She skidded to a halt at the door of the dressing room where a lone Elizabeth stood, gripping the back of a chair to the vanity tightly. When she noticed Susan in the mirror, she turned.

“He’s here, he’s fine, and he’s already been yelled at,” Susan informed her, breathing hard. 

“Where the hell has he  _ been _ ?” Elizabeth asked furiously, her accent pronouncing the last word with a hard ‘e’.  

“Don’t worry about that,” Susan said, stepping forward into the dressing room and shaking her head. “What matters is that he’s here and you look beautiful and everything’s going to go fine from here on out, okay?”

Elizabeth heaved a sigh as Susan reached her. She looked down at her dress and her bulging stomach.

“I feel like a whale.”

“Well, then you’re a very pretty whale,” Susan assured her, squeezing the bride’s arms encouragingly, “with magical hair.”

Susan nodded sincerely, which made Elizbeth relax slightly. At this, Susan pulled her into a hug.

“It’s going to be fine, okay?” Susan said as she pulled away, her arms returning to Elizabeth’s shoulders. “I’ve gotta go. Good luck.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and nodded. Susan cupped her cheek, nodding again, before racing off back towards the sanctuary. 

She slid into her seat on the pew  _ just _ in time for everyone to rise as Elizabeth started down the aisle. 

Susan glanced back at Mark, who was watching his approaching bride with pride in his eyes. She smiled and looked back to the bride as well, shooting her a small double thumbs up as she passed. 

Elizabeth smiled softly in reply as she passed. 

“And now for a reading from the book of Ruth,” the clergymen announced, “by a good friend of the bride and groom.” 

Susan took a deep breath and stood up. 

She could feel everyone’s eyes on her as she climbed up the steps to where the Bible sat, already opened to the verse, but none more so than Mark, Elizabeth, and Kerry’s. 

“Ruth chapter one, verses sixteen and seventeen,” Susan said in a loud, clear voice. “‘Entreat me not to leave you, or to turn back from following after you…’”

Her eyes flitted towards Mark and Elizabeth, who were watching her, both smiling. 

“‘For wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you lodge, I will lodge,” Susan read. “‘Your people shall be my people and your God, my God.’”

This time, her eyes flitted towards Kerry, who was watching her with a gentle look of loving pride on her face. 

Susan looked back down at the next words and inhaled deeply. She glanced back up at Mark and Elizabeth, who were now exchanging looks of utmost happiness. 

“‘Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts you and me.’”

Susan waited for a moment before starting back down the stairs. She smiled at the happy couple before taking her seat next to Kerry once more. 

As the clergyman continued the service, Kerry leaned over towards her. Her fingers entwined with Susan’s.

“I don’t think I ever told you,” she said in a low whisper, “but my parents said that verse to each other in their wedding vows.”

Kerry’s hand squeezed hers. And though she turned her face back to watch the rest of the ceremony, Susan didn’t have to wonder what she might be thinking about. 

Because she was thinking it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say, as if writing fanfiction wasn't self-indulgent enough, I have to say that I chose that verse from Ruth not because it's a popular wedding one, but because it inspired the song that my fiancé and the choir of our friends that he assembled and rehearsed sang right before he proposed to me. 
> 
> In writing this fic, I've realized just how much drama could have been avoided had Kerry 1) been allowed to come to terms with her sexuality under less pressure, 2) done so sooner, and 3) had a close friend or significant other who held her accountable for her interactions with other ER staff. Maybe it's just because I've spent four months of writing time on this story so far, but I am also convinced I'm not changing plot events just because I want to. It just makes more sense under the circumstances. 
> 
> I am also convinced that Susan's presence alone (with or without a relationship with Kerry) would have helped a lot. She's fun and adds lightheartedness, but she's also patient and caring while not taking any shit.
> 
> I'm interested to hear your thoughts on this if you have any.
> 
> That being said, this chapter was, at least a  _little_ bit, self-indulgent. But you know what? It's my birthday, so deal with it. (Also, as a birthday gift to myself, I commissioned Mouse to draw a scene from Chapter 11 of this fic and it is amazing. [Please go look at it](https://wouldntyoulichentoknow.tumblr.com/post/186733655057/susankerry-commission-done-for-bwayfan25-of-a) because it's lovely). 
> 
> That's a wrap on Season 7! So, prepare yourself. Things are coming back, and this time, it's not Susan.
> 
> Until next time.


	35. Chapter 35

Kerry had taken refuge in an empty exam room with the ER budget to squeeze in at least ten minutes of administrative work before someone needed her again. 

She loved this part of the job, there was no doubt, but she had lately had less and less time to get it done. And with Charlie now tall enough to grab things off of a tables and Suzie going through an artistic phase that had already resulted in Kerry showing up to a staff meeting with flowers drawn all over her paperwork, taking the work home with her was no longer a preferable option.

Hence why she had taken the brief lull in patients to some work done. 

However, this was not to last, as the  _ other _ reason she had sought refuge once again could be seen hovering close to the door. 

“For the love of God,” she muttered, before picking up her crutch and crossing to the door.

When she arrived and pushed it open, she was greeted by one Susan Lewis, who smiled innocently at her and took the open door as an invitation to come (though it had not been intended as such).

“Do you want something from me?” Kerry asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you following me around for no reason?”

“Well, there’s  _ always _ something I want from you,” Susan said, taking a seat on the bed. “I just never thought you’d give it to me at work.”

Kerry frowned at her for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant. When she had, her eyes grew wide with exasperation. The effect was lessened substantially, though, by the deep crimson blush that appeared on her cheeks. 

Susan grinned appreciatively. 

“Almost five years together and I can  _ still _ make you blush like that? God bless.”

“What do you want, Susan?”

Susan shrugged. She kicked her feet at the floor for a moment, much like Suzie did when she had to think hard about a question on her homework. Then, she looked back up at Kerry, a look of close consideration on her face. 

“Have you noticed how… quiet it’s been lately?”

“Susan, if you think this place has been quiet, you needed your hearing checked yesterday.”

“Not like  _ that _ I mean,” Susan said, rolling her eyes. “I mean… we haven’t had a big ER scare/scandal in like… six months.”

Kerry’s brow furrowed. 

“Remind me what the last one was?”

“That time back in May when we called DCFS on that abusive dad and he went crazy and started shooting people and for solid two hours we thought that Elizabeth and Ella might be dead?”

“Oh, yes. Right.”

“But think about it,” Susan pressed as Kerry retook her seat on the bed. “That’s the last big thing that’s happened. There haven’t been any big disasters. No one’s been fired lately. There haven’t been any unexpected departures or returns.”

“Who is it that you were expecting to return?” Kerry straightened her budget documents, but then paused. “Who’s even left? And, by that, I mean, who’s left that we’d actually  _ want _ to have back?”

Susan considered this for a second.

“Maggie Doyle?”

Kerry chuckled and shook her head.

“She just took an attending position in Arlington, Virginia and is quite happy there with her new girlfriend,” Kerry informed her. “I doubt she’d want to come back  _ here _ .”

Susan shrugged in acknowledgement. She sat forward, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She glanced sideways at Kerry.

“Maybe you should leave.”

_ “What?”  _ Kerry scoffed.

“I don’t mean it like  _ that _ ,” Susan assured her. “I just meant that 98% of all disasters happen where you’re not here. Maybe if you took a day off, we’d get some excitement.”

“I don’t believe that’s true anymore.”

“Well, then, maybe it’s a theory we should put to the test.”

Before Kerry had a chance to chastise her, there was a crack of thunder overhead so loud that they could feel it reverberate through their feet. 

Automatically, both turned to look out the dark window of the exam room. The rain that had been pounding down all day showed no signs of stopping and, as happened with  _ every _ terrible weather day, rumors had already begun swirling of the upswing in patients soon to come. 

The door to the exam room opened, pulling their attention away from the window. 

Abby was in the doorway.

“Dr. Weaver, there’s a stab wound to the abdomen en route. Five to ten minutes depending on traffic.”

“Alright. Prep trauma two, break out a cutdown tray, and page Surgery.”

Abby nodded and turned to do as instructed. And, if there was a chance, to possibly wonder aloud with the other nurses about what the two physicians might have been doing alone together before she arrived. 

Kerry heaved a sigh and gathered up her budget paperwork before both she and Susan rose from where they sat on the bed. 

“Looks like you might get your wish after all,” Kerry said as she crossed to the door. She stopped and raised a brow at Susan. “But if someone dies tonight, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fair.”

 

Susan flipped her head over and pulled her hair up into a tiny little ponytail.

She had wanted to cut her hair shorter, but when she voiced that out loud, Suzie had burst into tears because Suzie liked to play with Susan’s long hair when she was tired. They’d compromised and Susan had cut her hair to just above her shoulders. Still enough hair for Suzie to play with, but shorter than it had been.

Her hair situated, she picked up the chart she had set down and started for the patient with a possible pulmonary embolism. But as she passed where Mark stood talking to a patient in a police officer’s uniform, she stopped in her tracks. 

“I said ‘any history of heart disease,’” Mark said firmly. 

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Mark pushed back. “How many heart attacks have you had?”

“Just one,” the patient replied. “Angioplasty fixed me right up.”

Mark rolled his eyes with exasperation,

“Angioplasty?”

The patient gave a small shrug, as if the medical procedure had not been a big deal at all.

“Until this morning when I woke up, that is.”

“So, instead of going to a doctor, you stayed on your feet all day directing traffic?”

The patient’s brow rose as he looked at Mark.

“Aren’t  _ you _ a doctor?”

“And now, it’s too late,” Mark said, clapping a hand against the chart and offering the patient a callous shrug.

“What?” the patient asked, his eyes growing wider. “Am I going to die?”

“No, I just meant that any damage you did to your heart is already done,” Mark explained. 

The patient looked from him to Susan, who was now at his elbow, watching Mark with immense confusion and concern. 

“I’m gonna be okay, though, right?”

Mark inhaled deeply and for a brief second, Susan was sure that he was going to say no.

“I need you to stay overnight for observation,” he stated, “and to stay on the monitor.”

Mark then turned away from the patient back towards the desk. Susan followed close next to him.

“Uh, what kind of bedside manner was that?”

Mark stopped walking and turned to face her. He let out another exasperated sigh.

“The guy just had an MI after stenting and he stays out in the rain for eight hours,” Mark said as if this excused his behavior.

“So?” SUsan asked, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think yelling is going to help.”

“It might,” Mark replied, raising his eyebrows. 

Susan opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, she heard someone say, “Dr. Lewis?” She turned her head in the direction of the voice to find Abby standing nearby, her arms crossed.

“What is it?”

“HR called. The basement’s flooding,” she informed her. “They want to know if we can send anyone down to help.”

Susan shot her a look of confused frustration.

“That’s not up to me,” Susan said. “Go ask Kerry.”

“I would, but she’s not here,” Abby replied with a sigh, having expected this to be the next thing that was said.

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

“Apparently the ambulance bringing in the mugging victim was hit at an intersection. Victim’s nine months pregnant and started going into labor, so Dr. Weaver and Gallant went out to meet it.”

Susan’s eyes widened. 

“She went  _ out _ ? In  _ this _ ?” she asked, her voice full of concern as she pointed out towards the storm. Then, she looked up at the ceiling and scoffed. “Oh my God, I was  _ kidding. _ ”

Abby waited for directions for a moment. When none came, she raised an eyebrow.

“So? What do I do?”

Susan exhaled and shook her head.

“Go ask Carter. Or Chen,” she ordered. “And if they don’t know, then come back to me.”

Abby nodded as Susan turned back to Mark. 

“What was it you were kidding about?” he asked. 

“It… it doesn’t matter,” Susan said, waving it away. “What matters is you can't talk to patients like that, man.”

With this statement, she nudged him hard in the side. 

“Susan, I’ve had an epiphany,” Mark told her matter-of-factly. “If the patients are not going to take their conditions seriously, then what’s the point in sugarcoating anything? They need to understand that it’s their lives they’re playing with.”

Susan gave him a look of such disbelief that he almost expected her to elbow him again. 

“Yeah? Well, welcome to emergency medicine, Mark. I’ve told the same woman for eight months to take her Singulair and use her rescue inhaler, and yet she  _ still _ insists on showing up once a month on a gurney in the throws of a major asthma attack.”

Susan’s brow furrowed as she observed him carefully. 

“Are you alright?” she asked in a slow, quiet voice. “You’ve been kind of… moody lately.”

“I’m fine, Susan,” he insisted. “And, for the record,  _ you _ were the one who told me to take this second chance thing seriously. Consider it taken seriously.”

Her brow only furrowed further as he walked away. She watched him for another moment before filing her concern away in the back of her head and heading on towards her PE patient.

Ten minutes later, she heard another “Dr. Lewis?”

She turned, expecting to see Abby, but instead found Lily. 

“Dr. Lewis, Carter sent Malucci downstairs to help with the flooding, but apparently when he got there, he ran in, slipped on the tile, and knocked himself out,” Lily explained. “Carter wants to know if there’s anyone else we can send.”

Susan threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Is there anyone here  _ not _ acting like an idiot tonight?”

 

Kerry collapsed into one of the chairs in the lounge. Though she’d felt alert and ready when with the mugging victim, but now that it was over, she felt like every ounce of her energy had been sapped along with all the heat in her body. 

She shivered once and let out a sigh. She needed to get up and go change. The longer she sat here, the longer she’d be sitting in her rainwater-doused clothes and the colder she would get. 

She’d just decided to get up when the door to the lounge entered and Susan came in, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Kerry rose from her chair as Susan made for her. She was ready for Susan to wrap her arms around her, but instead the blonde just held her at arm's length and looked at her with a sincere look on her face.

“You do know that when I said you should leave because I wanted more exciting stuff to happen, I was joking, right?” she asked. “I didn’t mean you should actually go out into a terrible rainstorm that’s flooding the city.”

Kerry rolled her eyes, but admittedly, just the feeling of Susan’s hands on her upper arms had both relaxed her and started to warm her all the same.

“That being said,” Susan continued, “I heard what you did.”

Kerry groaned.

“I  _ had _ to. If I didn’t do something, she was going to arrest and then we wouldn’t have been able to get her back in time-”

“I’m not passing judgement,” Susan said, raising her hands defensively. “All I said is that I heard what you did.”

Kerry waited for the judgement to come, as it had from several others already tonight, but it did not. So, she just sighed and looked at Susan with a pitiful look on her face.

“Can I have a hug?”

“Absolutely not.”

_ “Why?”  _ Kerry asked in a voice the closest to a whine Susan had ever heard her use.

“ _ Because _ ,” Susan said, putting her hands on her hips, “you are soaking wet and covered in someone else’s blood.”

“Well, that’s not  _ my  _ fault,” Kerry said with a scoff. “I’ll have you know, it’s  _ raining _ outside. Plus, at one point, this firefighter just pushed me into a puddle.”

Susan narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

“For no reason?”

Kerry looked like she might nod, but instead she just averted her eyes. 

“She  _ may _ have been pushing me out of the way of a falling light pole,” Kerry muttered, suddenly deeply interested in a scuff mark on the cuff of her crutch.

“ _ Ohhhh _ ,” Susan said, elongating the word sarcastically. “So, they were saving your  _ life _ .”

Kerry rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. 

“Semantics.”

“Right.” Susan sighed and brushed a piece of wet hair out of Kerry’s eyes. “Well, I’ll be happy to get you a fresh pair of scrubs and hug you once you’re clean. How’s that?”

Kerry gave a small nod. Susan pulled the sleeve of her jacket down over her hand to rub a spot on Kerry’s forehead dry before kissing it gently. (Residual dampness be damned)

 

Though Kerry ended up on the receiving end of a  _ very _ angry rant from Janet Coburn regarding the emergency Cesarean she’d performed in the back of the ambulance,  otherwise, things after that were pretty normal. 

Mark had chilled out a little with his patients following Susan snapping at him, Malucci recovered from his concussion with only  _ minor _ ridicule from the other staff, and she and Kerry were back to their regularly scheduled debates.

“The cost for the league is only about sixty bucks,” Susan stated. “It’s not that much money.”

“It’s not about the  _ money _ ,” Kerry said with a huff. “It’s about the fact that this is the third thing she’s signed up for this year and she’s quit the other two. How do we know that basketball won’t be any different than ice skating or tap class?”

“We don’t,” Susan said with a shrug. “But that’s part of childhood. You try things out and see if you like ‘em. I tried and quit  _ tons _ of stuff when I was a kid. Gymnastics, cheerleading, math.”

Kerry glanced up at Susan, who had been listing off the activities on her fingers. 

“You quit  _ math _ ?”

Susan rolled her eyes.

“Okay, fine,” she said in a tone of admittance. “It was math  _ club _ .”

At the way Kerry seemed to be holding back laughter, Susan narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, bite me,” she snapped. “I was ten. I liked numbers. I was in the math club.”

“Susan,  _ I _ wasn’t even in the math club.”

“Yeah, well, that’s different,” Susan stated. “Math didn’t exist back when you were in school.”

Kerry shot her a look, but was then distracted by a figure coming in the ambulance bay doors behind Susan. Confused, Susan turned to see a woman in a firefighter’s get-up walk in to the ER, her face unsure of what she was supposed to do.

“What is it?”

“That’s her,” Kerry stated simply. “The firefighter who pushed me.”

“Saved you?”

“Whatever.”

The firefighter looked around for a moment before she recognized Kerry and started towards where she and Susan were chatting at the admit desk.

“Lieutenant Lopez,” Kerry greeted. 

“Dr. Weaver,” Lopez replied with a nod. “I, uh, came since you had said I should probably get my hand looked at.” 

“Yes, but I told you that last week.”

“Better late than never,” Susan cut in. She smiled apologetically at the firefighter. “Sorry about her. She doesn’t always play well with others.”

Lopez chuckled at this while Kerry shot a look of annoyance at the back of Susan’s head. 

“You’re the one who saved her the other day, right?” Susan asked. Lopez nodded. “Well, can I just say, since she probably won’t, that I am very, very grateful for that. She means a lot to me and it would have been really shitty if she died.”

Lopez smiled and nodded again. 

“All in a day’s work, ma’am.”

“Still. Thank you,” Susan said sincerely. Then, she straightened up and motioned towards Kerry. “Now… Dr. Weaver would be happy to take a look at your hand and she’s going to be  _ nice  _ about it. And if she’s not, feel free to come and find me and I’ll set her right.”

Susan had almost said ‘set her straight’ and chuckled to herself at the thought. 

Because  _ that _ , if the last several years had been any were any indication, would be a pretty impossible thing to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. We're certainly chugging along on chapters this weekend. Happy birthday to me.
> 
> Not much to say here other than we had a little bit of Sandy, mostly because  _Partly Cloudy with a Chance of Rain_ is on my top ten favorite episodes of  _ER,_ and also that I can actually use Susan's canon dialogue again! And this definitely won't in any way ruin your lives later this week!
> 
> I mean * _cough, cough_ *... it is very nice to have Susan as a reference in canon again. 
> 
> :)
> 
> Until next time.


	36. Chapter 36

By the time February rolled around, Susan kicked herself daily for ever having said anything about hoping for more excitement in the ER. 

In hindsight, she should have seen it coming, what with Rachel running away from St. Louis to move in with Elizabeth and Mark. As if dealing with one temperamental child wasn’t enough, they added a temperamental teenager to the mix. 

Ella, at least, had an excuse for her temperament seeing as she had not yet reached a year old. 

And to everyone’s horror, this fact was thrown in jeopardy only a few weeks later when baby Ella ended up on the trauma table, having swallowed amphetamines that had been in Rachel’s backpack. 

Susan was sure she’d never forget reassuring an incredibly ill Elizabeth that some of the best physicians in the hospital were working on Ella as she led her to the exam room next door. Kerry had been paged in and was ready to all but (gently) kick Mark out as his panic was preventing him from administering the lifesaving treatment Ella needed. 

Though Ella seemed to be making a full recovery with no long term damage, the relationship between Mark and Elizabeth did not seem to be following the same course, which left Susan in the middle feeling torn. 

On one hand, she completely understood and agreed with Elizabeth. Had that happened to one of her girls, she would stop at  _ nothing _ to make sure they were safe from any further harm. 

On the other hand, Mark was her best friend and Rachel was his daughter too. 

That was why, when Susan caught Mark holding a bloody tissue to his mouth one afternoon in the ER with Rachel departing in the other direction, she was immediately distracted. She had barely even finished telling two concerned parents that she would page a nutrition consult for their daughter before she cornered him at a drug cabinet.

“What did you do?”

“Bith my thongue,” Mark replied, still holding the tissue to it. 

“Let me take a look at it,” she offered, pulling a glove from the box to his right. 

“Ith’s fine.”

“Come on. Stick your tongue out,” she said with a bit of a sing-song tone to her voice. “Mark, if my almost-two-year-old can do it, so can you.”

Mark sighed and stuck his tongue out as directed. It veered off to the right. She rolled her eyes. 

“You bit it on the right side. I can’t see it if you do that,” she said in mock exasperation. “Stick it out straight.”

Mark blinked, his tongue still sticking out at an angle.

“I am.”

She wanted to playfully chastise him for goofing off before she saw the sincerity in his eyes. 

He didn’t know it was stuck out an angle. And if he didn’t know that, that meant he had no control over doing that. And if he had no control over doing that...

…

...

No. 

No, no, no. 

No, no, no, no,  _ NO. _

This was  _ NOT _ happening again.

She would  _ NOT _ go through this again. 

_ HE _ would  _ NOT _ go through this again. 

_ ELIZABETH _ and  _ ELLA _ and  _ RACHEL _ would  _ NOT GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN.  _

It was  _ DONE _ and it was  _ OVER _ and they were  _ NEVER, _

_ EVER, _

**_EVER_ **

_ GOING  _

_ TO  _

_ GO _

_ THROUGH  _

_ THIS  _

_ AGAIN.   _

But all of the anger, the  _ vitriol _ , that swirled around Susan’s head in that brief moment was not put into words, nor was it conveyed through the expression on her face. Because the only thing that Mark could see was fear. 

Mind-numbing, Earth-shattering fear. 

It was the same fear he would feel a few minutes later when he would test his facial nerves in the mirror and find that he could not stop his tongue from veering sideways when he stuck it out. 

And it was the same fear he would convey back to Susan a few minutes after that when he exited the bathroom to find her standing in front of the door, looking at him with that wide-eyed panic. 

He just nodded. 

 

Carrying around the secret that Mark’s tumor had returned weighed so heavily on Susan that she started to feel empathy with the Titan Atlas who was cursed to hold up the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Mark had sworn her to secrecy until he knew what his options were, which meant that the shifts where she and Elizabeth or she and Kerry had to work together were unfailingly stressful. 

She wanted nothing more than to confide in Kerry. To tell her what was going on, to have her try and help carry the secret too yes, but more so so she could look at Susan with that fiercely loving, protective look that Susan knew would be followed by Kerry holding her in her arms.

Actually , there  _ was _ one thing she wanted to do more than tell Kerry: she wanted to tell Elizabeth. 

Susan had begged Mark several times to tell her, their subdued arguments behind closed doors and in empty exam rooms reminiscent of that first time she had begged him to tell her. But he insisted that he didn’t want to bother her with it now and that he would tell her eventually. 

But when he returned from his trip to see the neurosurgeon in New York without a relieved smile on his face, Susan decided that was it. 

She was his best friend, dammit, and if he wasn’t going to do anything, she would. 

On this decision, she spun on her heel and started for the stairs. 

Each step she climbed felt harder and harder, like the very Universe itself was trying to hold her back.  But she kept going, step by step, until she reached the Surgical floor. 

Susan saw Elizabeth’s hair turn a corner and nearly took off sprinting. 

She rounded the corner and paused, waiting impatiently for Elizabeth to finish a conversation about post-op procedures with nurse Shirley before grabbing her by the hand.

“Susan, what the hell-”

Susan dragged her into the closest empty room, which happened to be a supply closet. Luckily, there was enough room for them both to stand inside with room to spare.

When they had come to a halt, Elizabeth put her hands on her hips, her face alight with fury. 

“Susan, what the  _ hell _ was that for?” 

Susan opened her mouth to speak and found herself choking up instead. But the subject matter she was about to cover was too important and too urgent to care about the threat of tears now. 

“You need to talk to Mark.”

“Oh,  _ God _ , Susan,” Elizabeth scoffed, raising her hands in frustration. “I  _ told _ you. I am  _ not _ going back unless Rachel is gone. I will  _ not _ put Ella in danger again.”

Susan swallowed hard. 

“Elizabeth,” she said in a voice getting shakier by the minute, “ I know you… I really don’t Rachel should go back to St. Louis right now.”

“Damn. He’s gotten you convinced too, has he?” Elizabeth said with a bitter chuckle. “Susan, I will not-”

“ _ Lizzie _ .”

Susan couldn’t be sure if it was the use of the nickname or the way her voice had dropped to barely more than a whisper, but it had stopped Elizabeth’s anger in its tracks. 

She stared at Susan, her brow furrowing. By the way she was looking at her, Susan knew she was listening. 

“Lizzie, think about it,” Susan said in that same low tone, “I’ve agreed with you about Rachel the  _ entire  _ time. Why would I change my mind  _ now?” _

Elizabeth knew. She had to have, because there was no other reason that could make her eyes widen like that. Of that, Susan was quite sure.

Slowly, Susan stepped forward and took Elizabeth’s hand in both her own. 

“What would be going on that he wouldn’t want to tell you?”

Elizabeth stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, never once breaking eye contact. 

And then, Susan heard her let out a very small, but unmistakable, sob. 

And if Susan thought her heart had been broken before, she had been mistaken. Because in that one tiny sound, it split in two, dropped to the ground, and splintered into a million pieces. 

And somehow she knew, even then, that she was never going to be able to pick them back up again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter chapter than usual. Also, much sadder.
> 
> The next one will be fun and lighthearted though! Before we return you to your regularly scheduled major character death. 
> 
> I'm sorry. I'm not, but I am. 
> 
> Until next time. 


	37. Chapter 37

“It was _funny._ ”

“It was _inappropriate_.”

“Yeah,” Susan said with a shrug. “That’s what makes it _funny_.”

Kerry rolled her eyes, pausing in front of her locker. 

Though she was legitimately upset by the matter of Carter, Abby, Luka, Gallant, and the duffel bag full of sex toys left behind by a patient in the most recent trauma, she had to admit it was a great deal better than the conversation she had been having with Susan only a few minutes before about whether or not they thought Mark would live long enough to attend Suzie’s birthday party in May. 

“I’m just saying,” Susan said with a sigh, “go easy on them.”

“And why should I?”

“Because I’m asking you nicely?”

Kerry turned to look at her and once again felt overwhelmed by the urge to cry. 

Susan looked so tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and for once in the nearly six years they’d lived together, Kerry knew it wasn’t because of the sleep cycles of baby girls. 

She knew what Susan was really asking too: _please go easy on them because Mark is dying and there’s nothing I can do about it, so please don’t make anyone else suffer right now._

“At the very least let _me_ lecture them,” Susan offered.

“ _You_ lecture them?”

“Sure. I can lecture people.” At Kerry’s raised .brow, Susan added, “or did you not hear my rant to Suzie defending _Back to the Future_ as one of the best films of our time?”

Kerry rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

“Fine. You can lecture them,” she said, giving in. “And for the record, I _did_ hear that defense and I have to say, I didn’t agree with your thesis.”

Kery turned back to her locker and undid the lock. She hadn’t even looked up after opening it before she heard Susan gasp behind her. 

Confused, she looked up and found a purple strap-on, complete with harness, sitting on the top shelf of her locker. 

Immediately, she turned and looked back at Susan, whose hand was over her mouth to stifle what was surely a fit of giggles. 

“ _Seriously?_ ” 

“I didn’t do it,” Susan replied, her smile was evident even behind her hand. 

“You _do_ realize that I’m not above punishing you, right?”

 

“I hate _all of you_ ,” Susan announced loudly as she walked into the empty classroom.

She dropped her purse unceremoniously on an empty chair and then collapsed into the one next to it. The others in the room exchanged confused glances.

“What are you doing here?” Abby asked from her seat a few chairs away. 

“I got thrown in detention with you miscreants,” Susan replied, narrowing her eyes as she scanned the room.

“Detention?”

“Miscreants?”

“But you weren’t even in there with us,” Carter pointed out.

“I _know_ . I went in to defend all of you and just happened to be standing there when she opened her locker and there was a _dildo_ inside.” Susan shook her head and turned to fix them with her ‘disappointed parent’ expression. “Which one of you did it? I’m not mad. I just want to know.”

Carter nearly snorted. 

“Like any of us are going to tell you, _mom_.”

Susan turned to face him, her brow furrowed and her mouth open in mock disbelief.

“That’s a lot of sass from someone who hasn’t cleaned their room in _years_.”

Carter shrugged. 

“You live in a different house,” he said simply, “and I don’t live with you.”

“Yeah? And you never call either.”

Susan turned back around in her chair and crossed her arms. She glanced down at her watch, frowning at the fact that this HR guy was nowhere to be found. 

Sitting back in her chair, she pondered for a moment. 

“You know, I bet this is because Kerry thinks I let Charlie put a pea up her nose,” she thought aloud. 

“ _Did_ you let Charlie put a pea up her nose?” Abby asked, her brow furrowing. 

“ _No_ . Those are _Kerry’s_ words, not mine,” Susan said, rolling her eyes. “I was fixing Suzie’s plate at dinner and when I turned around, _Suzie_ told Charlie to put a pea up her nose. And poor Charlie, she’s two. She doesn’t know anything. But she _loves_ to make her sister happy… Which is dangerous.”

“You don’t think Suzie would _hurt_ Charlie, do you?” Luka asked, concerned. 

“Oh, no, no. Suzie’s just seven and therefore not trustworthy,” Susan assured them. “Also, I know _another_ younger Lewis sister who would do anything to make her sister happy. And, spoiler alert, she’s in detention with you.”

With that, Susan clapped once, jolting everyone else. She rose from her seat and turned to the group.

“Since we’re here, until the guy gets here, I want you all to help me think of ways to get back at Kerry for this,” she said, her eyebrows raised to show her enthusiasm. “I am open to suggestions and there are no wrong answers.”

“Put a dildo in her locker,” Carter shouted from the back of the room.

Susan raised a finger in his direction. 

“There is _one_ wrong answer.”

Michael Gallant, who, to his credit, was actually trying to tune the rest of them out and get some work done, looked up from the textbook in front of him and let out a small huff. 

“You got an answer for me Gallant?” Susan asked. “Or are you just back there snickering?”

Gallant rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

“Dr. Lewis, you _can’t_ get back at Dr. Weaver for this,” he said with an edge of impatience in his voice.

“Sure, I can.” Susan shrugged. “Once I figure out how.”

“Could you sic the children on her?” Abby suggested, leaning her chin in her hand. 

“That _is_ an option,” Susan acknowledged. Then, she sighed. “ _Except_ that we recently learned that Suzie has no qualms about tackling people. And I don’t want her to _hurt_ Kerry… Especially since it would be _my_ idea.”

 Susan dropped back into her chair, disgruntled.

“I guess I could teach Charlie how to tackle people,” Susan considered. “Though she is only two and that would mean she’d basically just be throwing her body weight against Kerry’s legs. And again, don’t want her to potentially _hurt_ Kerry. Plus… Kerry gets really scared every time Charlie falls over for no reason.”

Abby frowned. 

“Isn’t Charlie a toddler? Doesn’t she fall down all the time?”

“Yeah and Kerry gets really freaked out every time,” Susan said, her frustration with Kerry momentarily forgotten as her expression changed to look as if she might tear up. “It’s actually really sad.”

But as soon as she said it, her frustration returned. She pounded her fist down on the table.

“No,” she snapped. “I’m not supposed to feel sorry for her. I’m supposed to be angry with her. SO. You all. Suggestions.”

“ _Dr. Lewis._ ”

Susan leaned her head back and groaned. 

“Gallant,” she said impatiently, “either put up or shut up.”

“Dr. Weaver was well within her right to punish us,” Gallant said firmly.

“Yeah, maybe _you all_ . _I_ wasn’t even there,” Susan said with a scoff. “And even if I was, I have certain exemptions.”

“Just because you’re friends with Dr. Weaver doesn’t mean you get special treatment.”

Susan turned around and looked at Gallant with a look of slack-jawed confusion. She blinked.

“Gallant, I’m not _friends_ with Dr. Weaver, I’m _married_ to Dr. Weaver.”

Gallant’s mouth fell open, his eyes growing wide. At this, Susan let out a sheepish chuckle.

“Oh my God, did you really not know? Now, I feel bad about being mad at you,” she said, before frowning and raising her finger at him. “Unless you maintain she was within her right to punish me, in which case, I will _continue to be_ mad at you.”

Gallant’s mouth worked wordlessly for a moment as he process this new revelation. 

“Like… like _legally?_ ”

“Well, _no,_ ” Susan said, rolling her eyes. “Though both of our names _are_ on the children’s birth certificates, we’re each other’s Power of Attorney, and I’m the executor of her will… So… Yeah. _Basically_ legally.”

“She made you the executor of her will?” Carter asked in slight surprise.

“Mm-hmm,” Susan said, nodding. “That was a very strange anniversary present. ‘Hi. We’ve been together for years. I love you very much. When I die, I want you to have all my stuff.’”

She paused and then turned towards Abby, her brow raised. 

“That being said, when Kerry dies, I’m gonna be rich. I mean… We share a bank account. I’m _already_ rich. But still.”

“I didn’t know Kerry had money,” Carter said, in an impressed voice Susan figured had something to do with the membership of that particular elite club.

But Susan just nodded. 

“Yep. She made some _very_ good investment decisions in the early 90s that are going to carry us through retirement,” Susan said, sitting back in her chair. “Actually, it’s going to pay for the children’s college. But that’s only if the children _go_ to college.”

“Why would the children not go to college?” Luka asked, his brow furrowing. 

“Well…” Susan heaved a huge sigh. “Suzie has informed that when she finishes school, she is not going to college. She wants to move to Kenya and then to New Zealand and then to Australia - in that order - and then she wants to move back and buy a farm. And on that farm, there are going to be chickens and pigs and goats, but there are _not_ going to be any cows.

“And as her mother, I don’t want to stifle her creativity or her dreams, and I’m not gonna make her drop eighty grand to go to school if she doesn’t want to,” Susan stated. “But for the _love of God_ , why are there no cows?”

Susan looked between Abby and Luka as if actually looking for an answer. 

“I think that’s a question for Suzie,” Abby offered. 

“I’ve _asked_. Every time she brings this up, I ask. And she won’t tell me!” Susan said with exasperation. “I don’t even think she knows. She just decided it.”

Susan let shook her head and let out another sigh. 

“Children are so weird. Last week, Suzie told me that the person she marries has to have four dogs. And because we believe in critical thinking and reasonable alternatives in my house, I asked, ‘well, what if they had one dog and you got three more when you got married.’ And she said, ‘no. They have to have four.’

“And what gets me the most about that is that… We don’t have a dog, we have no intention of _getting_ a dog, and as far as I’m aware, Suzie doesn’t even _like_ dogs.”

Susan looked for a moment like she might add something else, but instead she just gave one big shrug. 

“What if you gave the children stickers?” Luka wondered aloud. “And told them to… do things with them.”

Everyone else in the room turned to look at him in confusion. 

“To get back at Kerry,” he added at their bewildered expressions.

They all let out a collective “oooohhhh.”

“That is a viable option,” Susan said, considering it. “Question then is can I _control_ what the children do with them?”

Suddenly, Susan sat up.

“I could tell them to put the stickers on her crutch when she’s not using it.” But as quickly as she was struck with the thought, she deflated. She scoffed. “No. She would just think it’s cute and would keep them there. 

 _“Ugh._ Stupid cute children. What are they good for?”

“Being cute?” Abby suggested. 

“And causing problems,” Susan finished firmly. Then she straightened up. “No. Not problems, _trouble_ . Suzie does not cause _problems_ . She causes _trouble_.

“Because, honestly, she’s a pretty well-behaved kid. She does very well in school. She’s very empathetic and nice to people… when she wants to be. She just likes to cause trouble. As in… she’s been sent to the principal’s office _twice_ this year.”

“For what?”

“The first time, she was _this_ close to instigating a classroom uprising. The reason for which, was never clear. We’re very certain that she just wanted to prove that she could do it.” Susan rolled her eyes. “For _that_ , she got detention. And was grounded for three days.”

Carter and Abby both nodded, impressed. Luka and Gallant exchanged concerned glances. 

“What about the second time?” Carter asked, leaning forward.

There was a small part of him that hoped it might have been one of his definitely-not-suggestions suggestions for causing trouble at school that he had passed on to Suzie during his time living in the Weaver-Lewis basement. 

“Uh… well, second time, she didn’t get in trouble. She got a stern talking to, but she didn’t get in trouble.”

“Yeah, but what’d she _do?_ ”

“She knocked a kid out.”

“Like… unconscious?” Gallant asked slowly

His textbook lay forgotten in front of him as he listened to the exploits of Susan (and apparently _Kerry’s_ ) oldest daughter. 

“Yep,” Susan confirmed. “One punch. Straight to the nose. Out like a light.”

“And she didn’t get in trouble for that?” Abby asked, incredulously.

Susan shook her head. 

“How?” 

“She told us, and the kid told the same thing when he woke up, that… Well, there’s a kid in Suzie’s class, one of her friends, whose name is Sam. And Sam has cerebral palsy and uses a walker,” Susan explained. “The kid had been making fun of Sam all through recess. Suzie had  kept telling him to stop and he wouldn’t so… Suzie stopped him.”

This time, even Luka and Gallant gave impressed nods

“And Kerry, _God…_ ” Susan chuckled. “She was _so fucking proud_ . I eventually had to tell her to chill. Otherwise, Suzie _was_ going to do it again, and this time, we would _not_ be able to get her out of being suspended. Didn’t stop her from being in a really good mood for the rest of the week, though.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be the same week that she instituted the ‘no shifts over ten hours rule’ and then gave us all raises, would it?” Carter asked.

Susan nodded sincerely. 

“Yep,” she replied. “You can thank Suzie for that.”

They settled into comfortable silence for a few minutes before Susan checked her watch and let out another long groan. 

“Is this guy ever going to even show up? Or is this going to be like _Waiting for Godot_?”

Abby’s brow furrowed. 

“What’s _Waiting for Godot_?”

“You know. Like the play. Where they wait the whole time and Godot never shows up?” Susan asked. At Abby’s further confusion, Susan shrugged. “I read it in college.”

Behind her, Carter perked up.

“I did theatre in college.”

Susan and Abby both looked at each other and then turned to look at Carter. 

“Are you offering to perform for us?” Susan asked, a grin growing on her face. “Because I _sincerely_ hope you are offering to perform for us.”

 

Susan opened the door to the house to find Kerry sitting in one of the armchairs, typing on her laptop. 

At the sound of the door, Kerry glanced over and smirked. 

“How was your day, dear?”

Susan’s jaw tightened and she raised a threatening finger in Kerry’s direction. But before she said was she was ready to say, she paused, frowning.

“Are the kids in bed?”

“Charlie is. Suzie is in her room reading,” Kerry replied. Then, her brow furrowed and she glanced up at the ceiling, as if expecting to hear movement upstairs. She looked back to Susan. “At least, I _think_ that’s what she’s doing. It may be good to check on her.”

Suzie often escaped to her bedroom to read, but occasionally also to do things that toed the line between acceptable and grounding-worthy.

Susan glanced up as well, and then shook her head as if to rid herself of the thought. She raised her finger at Kerry again. 

“Fuck. You.”

“If you insist,” Kerry said, raising an eyebrow. 

This only served to make Susan grit her teeth harder. She raised her hands in frustration. 

“Why? Why, why, why?” Susan repeated. “ _Why?”_

“Why what?”

“It was my day off. And instead I had to go sit in a stupid sexual harassment training for eight hours where the guy did not even show up until three o’clock.”

“I’ve already scheduled you a different day off,” Kerry said, turning back to her computer. 

“But _why not today?”_ Susan asked, clenching her fists. “I wasn’t even- Why would you do this?”

Kerry paused her typing and turned back to Susan. 

“What did you do today?”

“I sat in an empty classroom with Gallant and Abby and Luka and Carter.”

“Did you have fun?” Kerry asked. 

“Yeah, actually. I did,” Susan confirmed. She dropped onto the couch. “I bitched about you all day.” 

“Glad to hear it.”

Susan looked at her with exhausted exasperation written all over her face. 

_“Why?”_

Kerry took a deep breath and then closed her laptop. 

She looked at Susan, the tone she’d assumed during what she had taken as playful banter had disappeared. It had been replaced by soft sincerity.

“Did you think about Mark once today?”

Susan frowned and not just at Kerry’s question. 

She hadn’t. The entire time… she hadn’t thought about it at all.

“What… What does that have to do with anything?” Susan asked quickly. 

Kerry heaved another sigh and pushed her laptop off of her lap and onto the ottoman. Then, she stood up and crossed to sit down on the couch next to Susan. 

“Susan, it’s all you’ve been able to think about for weeks, and _rightfully so_ ,” Kerry said, adding the last part before Susan could cut her off. “But… but seeing your face when I found that… _thing_ in my locker… Susan, it the first time you’ve smiled in weeks.”

“So what?” Susan pushed back, raising an eyebrow, but nevertheless letting Kerry gently play with her hair. “Are you saying you _planned_ for the HR guy to be several hours late?”

“No. That was just a… happy happenstance,” Kerry said, shaking her head slightly as she curled a lock of Susan’s hair around her finger. “I just took a chance on the assumption that you’d be mad at me for eight hours.”

“You’re seriously twisted, you know that?” Susan asked rhetorically. 

Still, once she had rolled her eyes and scoffed appropriately, Susan laid her head down on Kerry’s shoulder. Kerry, in turn, wrapped her arm around Susan’s shoulders and pulled her close enough to kiss her on the forehead. 

They stayed like that for a while enjoying the silence and each other before Kerry took a deep breath.

“Also…” she started slowly. “I had to send to send you to that training.”

“Why?” Susan asked, her voice muffled by her face’s proximity to Kerry’s shoulder. 

“Because you put a dildo in my locker.”

Susan immediately sat up, her mouth dropped wide open in disbelief. 

“I did _not._ ”

“Oh, come _on,_ Susan,” Kerry said, rolling her eyes. “Of course it was you.”

“Kerry-” Susan scoffed. “Kerry, I wasn’t even _in_ the trauma. I couldn’t have gotten to the bag to get one.”

“You could have grabbed one while I wasn’t looking,” Kerry said, shrugging. 

Susan just stared for a moment, her mouth still agape in shock. 

“Kerry, I didn’t do it.”

Kerry gave her a look of exasperation. 

“Of course you did,” Kerry pushed back. “I mean… who else would have done that?”

“ _Carter_ ,” Susan said, chuckling incredulously. “ _Carter_ would have done that. In fact, he _did_ do that. He told me.”

Kerry’s brow furrowed in confusion. For a moment, she looked taken aback. 

“Carter?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Susan said emphatically. “He told me he used to have your locker so he knew your combination.”

Kerry considered this seriously for a moment

“Huh.”

“Oh my God,” Susan said, scoffing. “Just for that? I want two days off.”

Susan stood up and started for the kitchen to get something to drink. Kerry rolled her eyes. 

“Fine,” she called out.

“On a weekend,” Susan called back. 

Kerry paused. 

“Maybe.”

“With pay.”

“No.”

Susan leaned over in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. 

“Why not?”

“Because you’re salaried and you’re going to get paid the same whether you work or not,” Kerry stated. 

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Susan said huffily as she returned from the kitchen, Diet Coke in hand. 

“Yeah? And I’m the principal of the ER,” Kerry said, smirking. “Or have you forgotten that I’m not above punishing you?”

Susan’s face broke out into a wide grin. 

“Ah, yes,” she said as if she had been waiting for this moment all day (because she had). “That. You see… when you said that, I _really_ wanted to reply, but I didn’t because I thought I’d get in trouble for it. However, seeing as I got in trouble _anyway_ , I should have just said it. But because I couldn’t do it then, I’m gonna do it now.”

Susan leaned over to Kerry’s ear and whispered into it, held her hand up to block the whispers from escaping further into the house and possibly into the ears of certain young girls who liked to spy on their mothers from behind the kitchen door.

At her words, Kerry’s eyes bugged. When Susan pulled away, she smirked in satisfaction at the look on Kerry’s face. 

“ _Do you kiss you children with that mouth?”_ Kerry hissed. 

“Yep. And that’s only _one_ thing it can it do.”

Susan said this in a voice so low that Kerry shivered. And at her shiver, Susan’s smirk only grew. 

“Since you sent me to sexual harassment training _for no reason_ ,” Susan whispered, “I’m gonna do this _all night long_.”

Susan raised an eyebrow in expectation of Kerry’s response.

“Well,” Kerry said, turning towards Susan and dropping her voice as well, “does that mean there’s at least going to be a pay-off at the end?”

They considered each other for a moment, their faces slowly getting closer until their lips almost met. 

But right before they did, Susan stopped and smirked harder than she had yet. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So, I  _had_ to write a chapter for  _Secrets and Lies_ because... well, I just had to. One, because we needed a bit of levity before what happens next and two, because I loved the idea of how it would play out with Susan and Kerry in a relationship. And three because I adore the idea that Susan  _really_ wants to be mad at Kerry but basically ends up talking the entire time about how much she loves her family. 
> 
> So, take a second. Breathe. Imagine a blonde seven-year-old teaching a blonde-ish two-year-old to put peas up her nose or any other number of things that sisters do to each other. Enjoy the playful bickering or try and figure out what Susan could have said that would have elicited that reaction from Kerry. 
> 
> In other words, enjoy the happiness while you can, because you know what happens next. 
> 
> Until next time. 


	38. Chapter 38

Susan sighed and turned the page of the chart she was reviewing. 

She’d been in a foul mood ever since she kissed Kerry this morning and Frank had told them they were going to hell (“Yeah? Well, we’ll see you there”). 

He hadn’t stopped grumbling about it and the computer system upgrade since. 

Mark had left the ER a few weeks ago and had not returned. She knew why, of course. It was time and he didn’t want to make it harder for any of them than he had to. But it didn’t stop her from thinking constantly about it and what she wished she would have said had she known that could be the last time she ever saw him. 

“Hey, when did this come in?” Carter asked, picking something up off the machine. At Frank’s “what,” Carter replied, “this letter from Dr. Greene.”

Susan looked up. 

A letter? From Mark? 

Though she knew better, her heart, which had been clenched painfully since Mark’s departure, relaxed just the _slightest_ bit. 

If Mark was faxing them letters, then surely he must still be okay. 

“What’s it say?” Susan asked, setting the chart aside and turning her attention to him. 

“‘Dear ER Gang,’” Carter began. 

“Ooh, we’re a ‘gang’ now?” Susan said, chuckling for the first time that day.

“Oh yeah,” Frank said gruffly. “We’ve got a handshake and everything.”

“While you were busy raising babies,” Haleh added. 

“‘Dear ER gang,’” Carter repeated, starting from the beginning. “‘So, here I am out on the beach at 5:30 in the evening. Elizabeth is drinking juice while I am all about the Mai Thais.’”

Susan was too focused on the terrible thought that the reason Elizabeth could be drinking juice because she was pregnant again to hear any of the interruptions. 

“‘The sun is going down. Rachel is dipping Ella’s toes in the ocean as they head out on a quest for the perfect seashell,’” Carter read. “‘And I find myself thinking, ‘you know what would make this moment complete? A jogger dropping to the sand short of breath so I can swoop in with a piece of bamboo to perform a nice clean intubation, fix the guy up, and send him off with a nice clean dispo.’” 

“The day I start fantasizing about critical care procedures is the day I leave too,” Abby muttered with a chuckle. 

Susan glanced at her out of the corner of her eye for a brief moment and noticed how many others had gathered round as Carter read. 

“‘Which,’” Carter continued, “‘I guess, is my way of saying that I miss you all and that dingy place. Lots of times I thought I should have chosen a different career or gone into private practice. Something easier, less grinding, more lucrative… 

“‘But since I’ve been gone, I realized that, outside of what I’m doing right now, sitting on this beach with my family, staying at County all those years, doing what we do on a daily basis…was the best choice I ever made. I know what you’re thinking, but trust me, it’s not so hard to appreciate once it’s over.’”

Carter chuckled. He looked and smiled. 

“I think that’s the Mai Thais talking.”

“Shut up,” Susan said sincerely. “Keep reading.”

Carter paused to take a deep breath and then continued. 

“‘As much as I’d like to believe that the ER can’t go on without me, the smarter part realizes that you’re an incredible group of doctors and nurses who approach every day with such skill, compassion, and thoroughness. And, when it comes to patient care, I know my absence will hardly be felt.’”

“Hmmm,” Haled said quietly, “I’m not so sure of that.”

“‘As for friendship and camaraderie, that’s another matter.

“‘In order to leave, I had to go the way I did, but I wouldn’t want any of you to think that that meant I didn’t…” Carter swallowed hard. “Value each of you and the years that we worked together. Or that I didn’t have things of a more personal nature to say.’”

Susan’s eyes pricked with tears. 

Even through the words on the paper were written and sent from many miles away, she had a very strange feeling this particular statement was meant specifically for her. 

“‘Most of you, I think, have an idea of what those things might be without writing them down… But still.’”

They all waited with bated breath for Carter to read the next line, but he didn’t.

“Go on,” Luka encouraged.

But Carter just shrugged.

“There’s just a couple of dots and then…’Ella is laughing and waving for me. Rachel has found her shell.’”

Carter smiled, as did the rest of them, at the conclusion of the letter. 

Susan was inclined to join them until she Carter’s smile falter.

There was another piece of paper in his hand. 

“What?” Susan asked quietly, her voice cracking even at the low volume. “What is it?”

Carter hesitated and Susan could swear she could see his lip tremble ever so slightly. 

“This… is from Dr. Corday.”

The rest of the group, who had been chuckling at Abby’s comment that Mark had sent this along in place of sending macadamia nuts, grew quiet.

Carter took a deep breath and, even before he read it, Susan knew what it was going to say.

“‘Mark died this morning at 6:04 am. His favorite time of day.’” He cleared his throat, though it did nothing to remove the shakiness from his voice. “‘I sent this on so you might know he was thinking about you all. And that…’”

Carter paused as his eyes filled with tears. 

“‘And that he appreciated knowing you would remember him well.’”

Susan just stared at him for a moment. And she continued staring even after Carter had gotten up from his place on the desk and handed the letter to Frank to post on the billboard. 

She was jolted back to the present by a small tap on her shoulder. When she turned, she found Abby watching her with concern.

“You okay?”

“What? Oh… yeah,” Susan said, nodding quickly. “Have… Have you seen Kerry?”

“Last time I saw her, she was on her way to the cafeteria,” Abby replied. “Do you want me to go find her?”

Susan shook her head. 

“No. It’s fine.”

She turned away from Abby and started down the hall. 

For a while, she busied herself with seeing patients, but in the lull in between, she kept finding herself staring at the wall.

He was gone. Actually gone. 

And she felt… numb.

It was almost as if all the sorrow and grief that had been building for weeks, for _months_ had immediately evaporated and was replaced with nothingness. 

Mark had died. Just this morning, as the sun was rising on the other side of the country. 

Had Elizabeth meant the time in Hawaiian Standard Time or Central? Because if he died at 6:04 am in Hawaii, that meant it was 11:04 am in Chicago. Only a few hours ago. Several hours sooner than it appeared. 

How funny time could be. The difference between one person dying in one place and the time another person finds out somewhere else. 

How all that time, all the time leading up to it and all the time that would pass in between, could be summarized in one single statement. One single sentence: Mark died this morning at 6:04 am.  

And yet, she still felt numb. 

And she continued to feel numb, even seeing patients. It wasn’t until a trauma several hours later where a young girl, barely older than Suzie, came in as a victim of an auto accident only for Susan to discover a giant tumor over her heart. 

She had just barely managed to say, “forget Surgery. Page Pedes Oncology,” before she had to step out into the hall for air. 

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. But when she opened them, she saw a familiar figure several feet away: a large, middle-aged white man who appeared to be looking for someone. He seemed very out of place and unsure of whether he was in the right place or not.

“Dad?”

 

Kerry read the words of the letter, her brow furrowing more with each word expressing Mark’s love for his colleagues. 

She had just barely finished reading when she sensed someone hovering nearby. Abby, probably. Abby had the tendency to hover. 

“When did this, um..” 

“You were at lunch,” Abby’s voice replied. 

“And you felt the need to post it on the bulletin board?” Kerry asked, more out of protection for the words and those they were written to than actually questioning the action.

“Well… he wrote it to the ER,” Abby said slowly. “Do you want us to take it down?”

“No. Leave it up,” Kerry responded quickly, shaking her head. She turned to Abby, a sense of urgency in her eyes. “Where’s Susan?”

Abby pointed somewhere beyond the admit desk in the direction of the trauma room. 

Kerry nodded and muttered a word of thanks, but before she could get very far in that direction, someone needed her. 

A patient had a complaint. There was a trauma coming in. George cut his hand again.

One thing after the other, each one keeping her from getting to Susan. And each time Kerry thought she might have a chance to make it, she’d see someone else reading the letter, and get closer to breaking down herself. 

She finally reached breakdown while suturing up George’s hand. 

George was a young man with Downs Syndrome that Kerry typically had a lot of patience with, though he did have the tendency to get scrapes and cuts from his job. 

But today, her grief got the best of her and she snapped at him. She tried to apologize, to snap herself out of it before the tears started, but it didn’t work. 

She excused herself to the exam room next door. She angrily threw her crutch aside before dropping onto the bed and losing it. 

“Dr. Weaver?” she heard Abby’s voice ask a few minutes later. 

“ _What?_ What could you _possibly_ want from me?” Kerry snapped. 

“Susan’s in the exam room two doors down,” Abby replied calmly. “If you were looking for her.”

Kerry lifted her face to look at Abby, who had picked up her crutch and was holding it out to her. 

“Thank you,” Kerry muttered, threading her arm through the crutch and standing up. 

Abby nodded and turned for the door. 

“Abby,” Kerry said in barely more than a whisper. The nurse stopped and looked back at her. “Thank you.”

Abby nodded again. 

Kerry took a moment to breathe before she followed Abby out the door and turned down the hall. She could see Susan’s blonde ponytail through the window of the door.

Stepping in that exam room, Kerry had to bite her lip to stop herself from losing it again. 

Susan was standing there, her arms crossed, staring at the corner. She didn’t even seem to notice Kerry’s presence in the room.

Without question, Kerry crossed to her, set her crutch against the bed, and wrapped her arms around Susan from behind. 

“You should go home,” Kerry said in a sincere but gentle voice, her cheek leaning against Susan’s back. “Go get Charlie from daycare. Pick Suzie up from school. Go home and hug your babies.”

When Susan didn’t reply, Kerry hugged her tighter. But when this still wasn’t enough, she let go and carefully stepped sideways. 

“Susan?”

Susan jerked as if she’d been shocked. She looked down at Kerry as if noticing her for the first time. 

“What?” she asked quickly, her eyes widening. 

“I said you should go home,” Kerry repeated slowly. 

Susan blinked. 

“Why?”

Kerry’s brow furrowed. She tilted her head ever so slightly in question.

“Susan?”

Susan continued to stare at her for a moment. Then she inhaled deeply.

“My dad just stopped by.”

“Your dad?” Kerry frowned. “Did you call him?”

“Nope,” she replied, shaking her head earnestly. “Nope. He just… He came here because he expected I would be here. He didn’t have a good phone number for me because I haven’t spoken to him since 1996.”

The longer Susan talked, the more… rushed her words seemed.  

The shakier they became too.

“What did he want?” 

Susan swallowed hard. For a moment, her lungs refused to fill with air, preventing her from getting any words out. 

“He came to tell me that Chloe died.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“Uh-huh. He said… he said they found her body in a-a -a… a hotel or something. In New York...” Susan said, nodding as she sucked in a breath. “She had overdosed.”

“Oh, _Susan_ ,” Kerry said helplessly.

“She was all alone,” Susan said in a voice barely more than a squeak. “There was… there was no one there to call for help. There was no one there to call 9-1-1… She just… died. All alone.”

Kerry reached to touch her shoulder comfortingly, but before she could Susan turned to face her straight on.

“You know… The-the… The last time I spoke to her, I told her that I required five years of sobriety before I’d let her back into Suzie’s life,” Susan said seriously. Her eyes were wide with fear. “Do you know when five years was? Last October… Halloween. And I thought about calling her, but I didn’t.”

Susan raised a hand to cover her mouth as sobs threatened to pour out.

“What if she had done it?” Susan took several rapid, unsteady breaths. “What if she had actually done it? And-and-and she was waiting for me to call. And I _didn’t_. 

“What if she had done it and sh-sh-she… sh-sh-she had been waiting for me to call and I didn’t so she just… just gave up _hope_?”

Susan collapsed onto the bed as the grief overwhelmed her. 

Kerry sat down next to her and held her for a long while as the loss of Susan’s best friend and her sister overtook her. 

The only thing she could do was to assure her that it wasn’t her fault and to murmur gentle nothings to her while Susan cried. And when the crying finally ended a long while later, Kerry continued to hold Susan close. 

It was once said that the only sure things in life are death and taxes. But that’s not quite true.

Death doesn’t exist in a vacuum. In order for there to be death, there must be life. And life does not exist in a vacuum either.

So, a more appropriate thing to say would be that the only sure things in life are death, taxes, and grief. 

Because it doesn’t matter who they were or how many lives they affected. There would always be someone who got left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started writing this story, I did not yet realize what the biggest implication of Susan getting custody of Suzie was.
> 
> I was too busy trying to figure out what would happen if Chloe returned. How would Susan react? What would she say if Chloe showed up again?
> 
> As I was writing Chapter 10, I looked to canon and to Susan and Chloe as characters to determine the outcome. And, as you know, the outcome was an (un)clean break. Susan had Kerry to rely on and no longer needed to involve her family in the care of Suzie. That chapter became the first to establish Kerry as part of Susan's family, long before either of them admitted their feelings to one another. 
> 
> It wasn't until I was planning the chapters of Seasons 6 and 7 and looking towards Season 8 when I remembered the events of  _Brothers and Sisters_. And it wasn't until then that I figured out something utterly heartbreaking: if Susan got custody of Suzie, then there would be nobody to call for help when Chloe overdosed in Season 8. And if there was no one to call for help, then Susan would face not one loss, but two.
> 
> Unexpected circumstances indeed.
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time.


	39. Chapter 39

The funeral was exactly how it was supposed to be: grim and final.

Here lies a person who is no longer a person. And because they are no longer a person, we are going them in a box and bury them underground. And we’re going to mark this ground with a rock that has the person-who-is-no-longer-a-person’s name on it and pretend that we can look at it and it will remind us of fond memories of the person-who-is-no-longer-a-person. But really, it will just remind us that that person is no longer a person and that they aren’t here anymore and that they never will be again.

Susan struggled for hours as to how to tell Suzie. About Mark, at least. She hadn’t yet told Suzie about Chloe because, to be perfectly honest, Suzie didn’t really know how she should feel about Chloe.

And, to be perfectly honest, neither did Susan.

Susan tried to soften the blow by making up stories about Mark’s last days with his family in Hawaii. About playing in the sand with Ella. About learning how to jet ski with Rachel. About dancing under the stars with Elizabeth.

But Suzie was no fool. 

When Susan finished her story, Suzie sat for a moment, considering it carefully. And then, with that honest sincerity unique to children under ten, she looked up at Susan and asked, “what happens now that Rachel and Ella don’t have a daddy anymore?”

Susan tried to talk Suzie out of wanting to go to the funeral, but Suzie insisted, even when Susan told her that she would have to be on her absolute best behavior, that it was going to be very sad, and that there was a very good chance both of her moms were going to cry. 

Though it would have been highly inappropriate, when they were standing there at Mark’s graveside, Susan holding Suzie’s hand with Kerry sitting down in front of them, Susan half-wished Suzie would act out. Become her boisterous, trouble-making self, if only for a minute. 

Because with Suzie standing there next to her doing exactly what Susan had asked meant that Suzie really knew what this all meant. 

Though all but Charlie had attended Mark’s funeral, only Susan attended Chloe’s. 

There was only a handful of people there. Susan, her parents, and a few people who used to know Chloe from NA back before she had moved to Arizona.

Those who had known her in NA greeted each other with sad, knowing looks. Susan recognized it later as the same looks nurses and physicians shared when the trauma didn’t turn out well. 

She guessed that tended to happen when you were part of groups who had to face the fact that sometimes people were just not going to be okay.

 

Because County General stops for no man nor woman nor person of any other gender, it was only a matter of weeks before the next crisis hit the ER. And it was none other than possibly the biggest and most ridiculous one yet: a possible bioterrorism attack.

It was this that let Susan claim once and for all that ER disasters were more likely to occur when Kerry was not there. She backed this up with the fact that Kerry had been stranded  _ outside _ of the hospital during the entire debacle, having scheduled herself a later shift to meet her friend Katrina for lunch.

When the hospital closed for two weeks to quarantine those who had been exposed to what was quite possibly smallpox, she and Kerry were left with two young girls, two weeks of paid time off, and nothing to do. 

So, in Mark’s honor, they went to the beach.

Admittedly, it was a  _ North Carolina _ beach and not a  _ Hawaii _ beach, but it still fit.

Despite the lateness of the decision, they were able to snag a good deal on a small beach condo right on the water for nine whole days. It was in the tiny town of Buxton, only minutes away from Cape Hatteras lighthouse. They could even see the light flash from the back deck at night.

Had Susan not been angry with God (or rather the  _ concept _ of God), she might have considered this a sign that the beach was where they were meant to be. 

The availability of the condo, the way the weather seemed to agree with whatever they planned to do that day, even the fact that Kerry’s laptop and cell phone just didn’t seem to work out on the barrier islands on the coast were indeed signs from God.

It was as if sometimes even God said, “yeah, that was pretty fucked up. You deserve a break.”

Oh, and of course there was the fallen branch Suzie found on their first night there that happened to be roughly the same height as Kerry’s crutch, complete with nature-made hand grip. Suzie had deemed this Kerry’s ‘beach crutch’ and Kerry agreed to use it for at least the first night. 

She’d ended up using it the entire trip and had even brought it home to add to what Susan lovingly referred to as Kerry’s Collection of Mobility Aids That She Never Uses but Insists on Keeping Anyways. Up until this point, it had only contained the silver-handled cane and a hand-carved walking stick gifted to her by a Ghanian craftsman when she had treated his daughter (“Susan, it’s a piece of  _ art _ . I can’t just  _ use _ it.” “And I’m telling you the guy who made it probably doesn’t agree.”)

Susan had even been able to sleep in North Carolina. 

Prior to that, and in the nights since returning, she lay awake all night. Even comfortably in bed, Kerry tucked into her side (snoring), every time Susan closed her eyes, her mind was filled with images of Mark taking his last breath, of Chloe slowly suffocating under the effects of heroin, of Robert Romano walking into the tail rotor of that helicopter. 

That’s how she came to be napping on the couch when Kerry returned home from a meeting on their final day before the hospital reopened.

At the sound of the door, Susan blinked awake. She lay there for a moment before yawning and sitting up. 

“So, what’s the verdict?” she asked, stretching. “Was it the Russians?”

“No and please don’t go around spreading rumors about it in the ER,” Kerry said, kicking her shoes off. “It’s going to be hard enough as it is.”

Kerry rolled her neck back and forth as she often did when she got home in the evening and took a seat in her preferred armchair. 

She glanced around, frowning at the silence and conspicuous lack of blonde children.

“Where are the girls?”

“In their fort underneath the kitchen table,” Susan replied. “They’ve been playing together all day.”

“They’ve been doing  _ what? _ ”

“Playing. Together,” Susan repeated. “Suzie even read Charlie a book.”

Kerry blinked. 

“Are we sure that’s Suzie?” she asked. “Or better yet, are we sure that Suzie didn’t  _ break _ something and is trying to make up for it.”

Susan shook her head slowly. 

“Nope,” she said with another yawn. “They’ve been getting along much better since we got back from the Outer Banks.”

Kerry didn’t seem convinced, but she just shook her head and kicked her feet up on the ottoman. She leaned back into the chair and sighed. 

“Well, we should probably get to bed early tonight,” she thought aloud. “ER opens at six. Bright and early.”

“ _ Six? _ ” Susan groaned. “Doesn’t that mean we have to be there  _ earlier _ than that?”

Kerry chuckled softly and turned to look at her. She raised a brow.

“You should be lucky they didn’t take my suggestion. I asked for  _ five _ ,” she said. But at Susan’s scowl, she sat up and quickly added, “I’m kidding. The whole hospital opens at six. It wasn’t my idea.”

Susan continued to glare for an additional minute,  _ just _ to be sure, before she relaxed back into the couch. 

“Oh, by the way, you got a message from your friend Katrina. She said something about ‘really wanting to talk more about Cincinnati?’” Susan informed her. “What’s in Cincinnati?”

Kerry just scoffed. At Susan’s question, she sighed and waved her away.

“Nothing.”

“ _ Kerry _ .”

Kerry rolled her eyes and heaved a large sigh. 

“The Chief of Staff at one of the hospitals there just stepped down and Katrina wants me to apply for it.”

Susan sat up, interested.

“Are you going to?”

“ _ No, _ ” Kerry said, shaking her head sincerely. “I’m perfectly happy with what I’m doing at County. And besides… I don’t even think I’d get it. And if I  _ did _ , it would mean uprooting our family and moving two states away.”

“So?” Susan said with a shrug. “You should apply. It sounds like it could be a good career move for you.”

Kerry looked at Susan, her brow furrowing at the seriousness of Susan’s voice. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, before immediately shaking her head. “I mean… I  _ know _ what’s wrong. But… What aren’t you telling me?”

Susan laid back against the couch cushion and closed her eyes. 

“I think I’m done with County.”

“You’re… What-what,” she stammered. “How… How long have been thinking about this?”

“For a while,” Susan admitted. “I didn’t tell you because I knew if I did, I was basically tendering my resignation.”

“Susan, I can take that hat off,” Kerry insisted. 

“I know. I  _ know _ ,” Susan assured her. But then she sighed again. “But I also knew if I told you, it meant I’d made a decision.”

Susan squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before inhaling and exhaling deeply. She opened her eyes and looked at Kerry. 

“I’ve… I’ve worked in that hospital for almost ten years and he has been there for  _ every one of them.  _ And I just know that I’m  _ always _ going to expect him to be there,” she explained. “I’m  _ always _ going to expect to-to see him walk through the door or see his initials on the board or… or to run into him in the hallway. And I know that every time I forget… I’m going to have to remember all over again.”

“So, you’re giving up emergency medicine?”

Susan shook her head. 

“No. I’m giving up  _ County _ .”

She looked at Kerry and a small smile creeped onto her face. 

“These last two weeks, when it was just you and me and the girls… Kerry, it’s been  _ fantastic _ . It’s… It’s been the first time I’ve felt okay in a  _ while _ . But I know that if I go back…”

Susan’s smile faded. She let out another heavy sigh.

“I don’t want to work somewhere that’s constantly going to remind me that my best friend is dead.”

They sat there for a moment, letting the statement sink in. 

But Susan, who had been thinking about that for the better part of a year and had no interest in thinking about it further, shook her head, drew in a deep breath, and looked imploringly at Kerry.

“So, you should apply for the Cincinnati job. And you’re going to get it because they’d be stupid not to hire you,” she said, rising from her seat on the couch and crossing to take a seat on the ottoman in front of Kerry. “And so what if we have to move two states away? I’m okay with that. In fact… I’m  _ more _ than okay with that.”

Kerry cupped Susan’s cheek with her hand.

“This is… a big decision,” she said simply, considering Susan closely. “Are you sure?”

Susan took a deep breath. She closed her hand over Kerry’s. For a moment, she just held it there before she took Kerry’s hand in hers and kissed it before lowering it to her lap.

“I’ve been sure since Elizabeth faxed the letter.”

Kerry nodded. 

It was her turn to let out a sigh.

“I guess I should update my CV then,” she stated. “And call Luka.”

“Luka? I thought you need to call Katrina,” Susan asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Well, yes,” Kerry acknowledged with a shrug. “But I need to get someone to cover your shift tomorrow first.”

Susan chuckled. 

“I’ll give you two more weeks,” she offered. “And submit a formal letter of resignation.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

To this, Kerry just leaned forward and kissed Susan deeply on the lips. When they pulled apart, Kerry smirked.

“Perks of sleeping with the boss.”

 

Kerry received the job offer the first week of August, though it came as no surprise to anyone,  _ especially _ when she took a few unexpected days off at the end of July to fly out to Cincinnati. This led half of the ER to believe it was for a second interview and half to believe it was to put in an offer on a house.

(It was both.)

Though Susan had not returned to work following the bioterrorism scare and her locker had been cleaned out and was currently in use by one of the new residents, no one dared take Susan’s name tag off the locker until Dr. Weaver said it was okay.

She didn’t relent until Susan herself returned to County one last time, along with Suzie and Charlie, to take part in the joint going-away party for her and Kerry.

When Charlie fell asleep in Haleh’s arms and Suzie in Carter’s, they knew the party was drawing to a close. But before they could leave, Haleh passed Charlie over to Susan and led her and Kerry, locker tags in hand, to a small secret room. 

On the wall was a collection of locker tags of those who had since departed County. Kerry and Susan hung theirs up together, right next to each other. 

And then, with Elizabeth’s permission, Susan hung Mark’s up too.

From there, they gathered the children back into the car and, because Susan had started packing the day Kerry was called for an interview, it was only a few days before they’d loaded everything into a moving truck and set out for the I-65 south towards Indianapolis.

They’d bought a house in the Blue Ash neighborhood of Cincinnati. 

As the end of August neared, they took care of the important things: enrolling Suzie in school, figuring out the fastest route to Kerry’s new hospital, locating the closest grocery store, reassuring Suzie that, yes, stores in Ohio sold  Fruit Loops too.

And slowly, little by little, they started settling into their new lives. 

Even in light of certain Mark-ed absences. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize until after I'd planned this chapter out that it was going to overwhelmingly be description. But grief is a really fucked up and complicated subject. Sometimes it can take a lot of words to describe it. 
> 
> Well, dear readers, we are reaching the end. If you haven't noticed, the chapter count is now 39/40, meaning there's only one chapter left. You can probably guess which episode it'll feature.
> 
> I chose the beginning of Season 9 to be the departure of Kerry and Susan from County for two reasons. The first was that writing to either one of their  _actual_ departures in the show would require me to write a whole lot more and also watch a bunch of stuff in later seasons that I didn't really care about. The second was because I imagined, had Sherry Stringfield never left the show in Season 3 and then returned in Season 8, the beginning of Season 9 would probably be a good time for both her to finish her run on the show and for Susan's arc to wrap up. Peter left halfway through Season 8 and Mark obviously left at the end of Season 8, so had she stayed on the show, as part of the original group, eight seasons would probably be a decent enough amount of time to stay.
> 
> As always, I appreciate each and every one of you for reading this and for sticking with it. 
> 
> And for the final time for this here fanfic... Until next time. 
> 
>  


	40. Chapter 40

_ April 2009 _

 

Charlie stomped on the landing of the stairwell hard with both feet. Immediately, she spun around and put her hands on her hips proudly. 

“Ha! I beat you.”

Suzie barely looked up from her iPod Touch as she climbed the final few stairs to the top floor of what was about to be christened the Joshua Carter Clinic.

“I wasn’t even racing you,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, you were,” Charlie said with more than a hint of a gloat in her voice. “And I  _ won _ .”

Suzie, sensing Susan approaching up the stairs behind her, turned and put on her most pitiful look.

“ _ Mom _ ,” she whined. “Charlie says she beat me and I wasn’t even playing.”

At the last word, Suzie turned and cast Charlie a dirty look. 

“Uh-uh. No,” Susan said, shaking her head. “I had enough of this in the car. You have two moms. Go bother the other one.”

Suzie’s shoulders drooped and she  _ almost _ rolled her eyes as Susan walked past her. Then, she waited (im)patiently for a moment for Kerry to catch up with the rest of them. Even three years after her hip replacement, she still often brought up the rear when with the rest of the family.

“ _ Momma _ ,” Suzie whined in the exact same tone she’d used a second ago with Susan.

“What, dear?” Kerry asked as she too reached the landing.

“Charlie said she beat me up the stairs and I wasn’t even racing her.”

“Did she get to the top of the stairs first?”

“ _ Kerry _ .”

“What?” Kerry said defensively. “I’m just establishing facts.”

Suzie and Susan both rolled their eyes, but Charlie looked vindicated. 

They all looked at her for a moment, waiting for whatever her response was going to be, but she didn’t offer one. At least, not until Susan and Kerry had turned away to admire the architecture.

“I’m sorry, Suzie,” Charlie apologized, though she was smirking. “It’s not your fault you got the  _ short genes _ .”

Suzie looked murderous as Charlie immediately took off. And before Kerry could shout, “catch her,” Susan lunged forward and grabbed Charlie by the hand. 

“Come with me,” Susan ordered.

(Like Charlie had any choice with Susan’s hand holding hers in a death grip.)

Susan led her across the room, out of earshot of the other two members of the family. She stopped in front of a marble bench. 

“Sit down.”

“I don’t wanna sit down,” Charlie muttered.”

“ _ Sit. Down _ .”

Charlie did as she was told, but refused to make eye contact with Susan. Instead, she just kicked her legs back and forth, hoping her tennis shoes might scuff the nicely polished floor.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you hungry? Tired?” Susan asked with the air of one who had done this  _ many _ times before. “Do you feel sick? Does something hurt?”

Charlie looked up at her, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“No.”

“ _ Then, why are you acting like this? _ ”

Charlie continued to kick at the floor for a few seconds. 

“I don’t know Carter.”

“Sure you do,” Susan said with a shrug. “You’ve met him a bunch of times.”

“Yeah, but I don’t  _ know _ him,” Charlie replied. She crossed her arms in typical pre-pout fashion. “You and Momma and Suzie all  _ know  _ him and I don’t.”

“Ohhh,” Susan slowly. She nodded in understanding and took a seat next to Charlie on the bench. “And you’re feeling left out.”

Charlie didn’t say or do anything to confirm this, but Susan could tell by the way she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. 

 “Well, that we can fix,” Susan reassured her. She patted Charlie’s knee and looked at her. “See? Isn’t it easier when you just tell me how you feel?”

At this, Charlie crossed her arms. 

“What?”

“You always tell me I’m like Momma, but Momma never has to talk to anyone about how she  _ feels _ ,” Charlie huffed. 

“Charlie, where do you think I learned to  _ ask _ these kind of questions?” Susan said, chuckling. “And for the record, Momma  _ does _ have to talk to people about how she feels. The difference is that when  _ she _ does it, it’s called therapy and we have to pay a lot of money for it.”

Charlie looked up at Susan and cocked her head.

“Momma’s in therapy?”

“Yep,” Susan confirmed. “She has been off and on for years.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. 

“How  _ many _ years?”

Susan gave a big shrug. 

“I don’t know. Twelve?”

“ _ Twelve? _ ” Charlie exclaimed. “Suzie told me it was  _ nine _ .”

“Of course she did,” Susan muttered, rubbing a hand across her forehead. “Of  _ course  _ she did.”

“ _ Suzie _ ,” Charlie growled.

Susan  _ just  _ managed to grab Charlie by the back of her coat and yank her backwards before she could take off at full speed in the direction of her sister. 

“Did we not  _ just _ talk about behavior? And you not doing this right now?” Susan asked her sincerely.

“Will she at least be punished?” Charlie asked through gritted teeth.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Susan assured her. “But not right now, because I see Carter coming up the stairs, which means it’s time to take the tour.”

Charlie continued to pout, but let Susan lead her back towards when Suzie and Kerry were now greeting Carter with hugs. 

Susan hugged him too, but Charlie, in a moment of uncharacteristic shyness, hung back behind Kerry’s leg. When Carter noticed this, he smiled at her gently. 

“Yeah, I guess you don’t really know me well enough for a hug, right, Charlie?” he asked, to no response. He held up a hand. “How about a high five then?”

Charlie grinned broadly at the offer and Kerry, Susan, and Suzie all winced in expectation at what Carter  _ clearly _ forgot about high-fives given by the Lewis girls. 

Soon, he too was wincing and shaking out his hand.

“I should have seen that coming,” Carter said, clenching and unclenching his fist several times. “I  _ should _ have seen that coming.”

He must have still been in pain a moment later because when he clapped his hands together, his eye twitched.

“Shall we go ahead?” he asked, looking back and forth between Kerry and Susan. 

Kerry nodded. Carter turned to lead them on, but Susan hesitated. 

“You two go on,” she instructed. “We’ll be right there.”

Carter and Kerry exchanged glances before turning and starting in the other direction. The girls, who knew what was coming, started to follow them, but halted when Susan held up a finger in their direction.

“Look at me,” she said, pointing two fingers at them and then at herself. “I expect you to be on your  _ very best behavior _ while Carter walks us around. That means, when Carter is talking,  _ you aren’t _ .”

Susan made very pointed eye contact with her youngest daughter, who frowned. 

“Why are you looking at me?”

“You know why,” Susan stated firmly. “Also, if either of you take a swipe at your sister while we’re here, you will lose whatever fun Chicago activity you picked out to do while we were here.

“So… If at any point, you feel like you just  _ can’t _ help but slap her, walk to the other side of us. Come hold my hand or go hold Momma’s hand, but do not,  _ under any circumstances _ , hit each other.”

Susan looked back and forth between the girls for a moment to make sure they understood the sincerity in her words. 

“And lastly,” she continued, “if you have a question, raise your hand.”

Suzie scoffed. 

“What is this? School?” she asked, rolling her eyes. 

Susan fixed Suzie with a look. 

“Yes. Pretend it’s like school,” she confirmed, staring Suzie straight in the eye. “Pretend you’re on a school field trip and you will get grounded if you cause any trouble.”

Charlie’s hand shot into the air. Susan looked at her, her brow rising.

“Do you actually have a question? Or are you just testing me?”

“Where’s the bathroom?” Charlie asked as she lowered her hand. 

Susan considered the query for a moment, before smiling. 

“That is very good - and acceptable- question for Carter,” she stated. 

“Also, is this a hospital?” Charlie added quickly as soon as Susan had finished talking.

“No,” Suzie answered out of the corner of her mouth. “It’s too  _ nice _ to be a hospital.”

Susan shot Suzie another look while Charlie just looked up at the stone architecture, the murals on the walls, and the chandelier hanging over the foyer and nodded.

“You’re right,” she concluded. “It  _ is _ too nice to be a hospital.”

Susan heaved a sigh and shook her head. 

“You know what? I take that back.  _ No _ questions,” she said with a warning edge to her voice. “Now come on.”

Susan spun on her heel and started after Kerry and Carter. 

“But what if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“You hold it.”

Susan started down the hall before she was struck by another thought.

“And Suzie… put it away.”

Though Susan had not turned around, Suzie’s eyes widened in fear as she quickly shoved the iPod back into the pocket of her jeans.

“I didn’t even have it out,” she said quickly.

“Yes, she did.”

Suzie stopped moving forward and instead turned to Charlie.

“I will  _ murder  _ you.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you  _ try _ .”

The two girls were about to lunge when they both looked up to see Susan staring at them, her arms crossed in front of her. And immediately, they both straightened up and shoved their hands in their pockets. 

“Consider that your one free pass,” Susan said in a low, serious voice. “This is very important to Carter, which means it is very important to your mother and I. So, for the love of God,  _ chill _ .”

Suzie and Charlie both nodded quickly before Susan turned once again towards where Carter and Kerry were chatting a little ways away.

When they had caught up, and Charlie asked Carter where the bathroom was, Susan drew even with Kerry. As her arms were still crossed and her jaw set, Kerry raised an eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” she asked quietly.

Susan sighed.

“Whose idea was it to have two?”

“As I recall,” Kerry replied slowly, “it was yours.”

 

Carter toured them around the huge, beautiful clinic space and explained the services that would be offered in a proud but subdued tone. 

He told them about the lab and diagnostic services housed right there in the facility, how the second floor offices would offer social work and counseling services, and how the center would even include outreach services to the homeless like showers and meals.

Susan in particular was very proud to hear that Lucy Knight, senior attending in the Psych department under newly-crowned department head Kim Legaspi, would be offering psychiatric services once a week to the clinic patients. 

Kerry, in turn, was very proud to hear that the free clinic Carol had started all those years ago had been integrated into the Carter Clinic, which meant John Carter got to benefit from Carol’s expertise in clinic operations and fundraising.

Susan’s threats must have worked because Suzie and Charlie said nothing for the rest of the tour and into the evening. 

They stayed very still and quiet while Carter gave the dedication and, when the ER staff gathered for drinks, the pair of them sat in a booth by themselves. Suzie even let Charlie look over her shoulder while she played with her iPod.

Though there was more genetic variety between the pair of them than was common for sisters, there was still no mistaking that they were related. 

Of course, there were  _ some  _ differences. 

Suzie’s hair was a brighter blonde than Charlie’s, which had darkened closer to Susan’s natural brown. Charlie wore glasses, the need for which must have come from somewhere on the donor’s side of the tree as Susan and Suzie’s eyesight was perfect. And, to Suzie’s dismay, Charlie was nearly the same height as her older sister despite being nearly five years younger.

But when both of them wore their hair down and you could see their same pink cheeks and bright blue eyes, you would never guess that they didn’t share the same DNA.

Susan was just considering this (and whether or not she should go ahead and have another glass of wine) when Carter suggested that they visit County “for old times sake.”

“I don’t know,” Kerry said, shaking her head. She dropped her voice. “The girls already sat through a five-hour car ride. Do you really think they’ll hold out much longer?”

Susan glanced over at the girls and shrugged. 

“Eh...They’ll be fine.”

Kerry didn’t look convinced, but soon enough, the group rose from the table to bid each other goodnight and goodbye before Carter led them down the street and into the ER. 

When Susan and Kerry stepped through the doors into the busy admit area, they both sighed deeply. Suzie and Charlie just looked around, confused. 

“This is it?” Suzie asked as she looked around the ER.

“What do you mean, ‘this is it?’’

“I mean…” Suzie’s brow furrowed as she took in the sight of the County General Emergency Department. “All of your stories took place… here?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Susan asked defensively. 

“It smells funny,” Charlie answered as she too looked around. 

“Well…  _ Yeah _ .”

“Housekeeping never could tell me what that smell was,” Kerry muttered. 

Susan had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes. As if Kerry didn’t know that smell was urine, blood, and desperation.

“Wait!” Charlie said, lighting up. She turned to Kerry. “Where did the lady get stabbed?”

“ _ Suz-   _ I mean… _ Charlie _ ,” Kerry snapped. 

Charlie gave Kerry a look of frustrated disappointment.

“Did you just almost call me Suzie?” 

“No,” Kerry lied. “And I told you not to bring that up.”

“And I told  _ you _ ,” Susan cut in, “not to tell her that.”

Kerry scoffed and folded her arms.

“She asked the night she was born and I thought she was old enough to know,” Kerry replied. 

Charlie looked at Susan and nodded sincerely, like she was trying to affirm Kerry’s point. But Susan just frowned at the both of them. 

For a moment, at least. Eventually the little bit of pleading in Charlie’s eyes won Susan over and she gave in. 

“Okay, fine. Take her.”

Charlie cheered silently until Kerry took her by the hand and started leading her down the hall.

“Why do you have to hold my hand?” Charlie said. She knew better than to tug her hand away, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Because you’re a flight risk,” Kerry said with a sigh. 

“What’s a ‘flight risk?’” Charlie wondered aloud. 

Kerry did not answer as she was too busy taking it all in as they headed in the direction of Trauma Two. Just seeing the tile filled her with emotion she wasn’t expecting and couldn’t really explain.

“Um… ma’am? You can’t go back there?”

Kerry blinked and turned to see a young man in a white coat holding up a hand to her and Charlie. His hair and beard were both bright red.

“We’re not going to go into the  _ rooms _ ,” she assured him. “Just down the hall.”

“Yes, but that could still potentially be a HIPAA violation,” the man pointed out. “I can’t let you do that.”

Kerry narrowed her eyes at this young man who dared tell her off in her ER. (Alright, it wasn’t her ER  _ anymore _ , but still. Who did he think he was?)

“What’s your name?” Kerry asked.

“Archie Morris,” the man replied. “I’m one of the attendings here.”

“Well, Dr. Morris, unless you’ve started posting Personal Health Information on the walls of the hallway, then it would  _ not _ be a HIPAA violation,” she pointed out. “Though, I’d be happy not to continue on if you’d like to show my daughter where the social worker got stabbed and killed.”

Morris’ eyes grew wide.

“A social worker gotted stabbed here?”

“It must have been before your time,” Kerry said simply. “Come on, Charlie.”

And with that, she continued on. Charlie smiled cheerfully at Morris as Kerry led her on, but that didn’t stop him from turning to where a few nurses stood a few feet away. Their gossip had immediately ceased when they saw Morris approach Kerry.

“Did… Did you just see that? She just… walked right past me. Right after I told her not to,” Morris asked, jerking a thumb behind him. “Should… Should I call security?”

“LIke they’d do much,” Lydia muttered, causing both Haleh and Lily to chuckle.

At Morris’ stare, there chuckling stopped. It was Haleh who finally cleared her throat. 

“Dr. Morris, you just Dr.  _ Weaver _ ,” she informed him. “And the little one with her is her mini-me.”

Morris’ brow furrowed for a moment before his eyes grew wider than they had been before. 

“You mean the Dr.Weaver who-”

“Mm-hmm.”

“The same one who-”

“ _ Mm-hmm _ .”

Morris looked at them and then to where Kerry and Charlie stood down the hall and back. He took a few steps towards the nurses and dropped his voice to a whisper. 

“I thought you all said that she had a limp or something.”

Lydia shrugged. 

“She used to.”

Morris blinked a couple times, his mouth hanging open. 

“I should...I’m going to go see if she, uh… needs any help finding anything.”

The nurses watched him go for a second before they all burst out laughing.

“Did you see the way she looked at him?” Lily asked, smiling broadly. 

“Mm-hmm,” Haleh replied, nodding. “Mm-mm. She would have eaten him for  _ lunch _ .”

“I think she just did,” Lydia added, leading to more chuckles at Morris’ expense.

Down the hall in the other direction, Carter filled Susan in more on what else had happened in the ER and outside it, including his forays to Africa, the circumstances leading to the early arrival of Abby and Luka’s baby, and Robert Romano’s untimely death at the hands (well, propellers) of the same helicopter that had maimed him.

“Sounds like we got out at the right time,” Susan said, wincing.

Carter didn’t say anything, but he did shrug in a way that suggested she might not be too wrong.

“So, that’s what’s been happening around here,” he said. “What about you all? What’s been going on?”

“Well… mostly work and making sure the children don’t strangle each other,” Susan said with her own shrug. “Or, as happened last week, one of the children threatening to strangle someone  _ else  _ on the other child’s behalf.”

When Carter raised a curious eyebrow, Susan smiled  and recounted the incident.

“Well, it started because Charlie  _ never shuts up _ . As in the only reason she’s been quiet at  _ all _ today was because she knows what’s at stake if she’s not,” Susan explained. “And we were at this ER family picnic and some of the other kids were talking about her. Suzie heard and threatened to punch the kids’ lights out… And then later, once we got home, threatened to push Charlie down the stairs. Because that’s how sisterhood works.”

Carter and Susan chuckled for a moment before their chuckles died down and they exchanged the sad, knowing look of those who’d lost their siblings too soon.

“And how’s work?” Carter asked, changing the subject before either of them could dwell on that for too long. “Still in the ER?”

“Yep and I’m very happy to say that I just got tenure,” Susan said, clenching her fists triumphantly. “And… I now totally understand and appreciate why Mark was so worked up about it all those years ago. Because that shit wasn’t fun.

“ _ But, _ can I just say, I did it. And I got that fucking grant  _ all _ on my own. No thanks to someone,” Susan said in a lower voice. 

She nodded in the direction of the trauma rooms.

“You mean she didn’t help you?”

“Well, I didn’t ask,” Susan admitted. “But I’d be lying if said I didn’t think she was going to offer.”

“That doesn’t seem like her,” Carter said, his brow furrowing.

“It does when you know that we don’t work for the same hospital,” Susan said, smirking at his concern, “and that I’m  _ pretty _ sure she was hoping that she could lure me to hers.”

Carter nodded in understanding. Then, he had a thought and leaned forward, dropping his voice.

“Okay, so I didn’t want to bring this up earlier because I didn’t want to say something in front of her,” he whispered, “but where the hell is her crutch?”

“In the hall closet,” Susan answered. “With all the others.”

Carter looked at her in disbelief.

“A couple years ago now, we were on our way to dinner on Valentine’s Day and Kerry slipped on a patch of ice in the parking lot and… ate it. And, you know, she’s fallen or slipped a couple times in the time we’ve been together, but we both knew this was different because this time… she couldn’t get up. So, we spent Valentine’s Day in the ER. Which I thought was fitting. She didn’t appreciate it.

“And while we were there, she got an MRI and it just… it just wasn’t good. Torn cartilage, bone spurs… Plus she’s had arthritis since she was, like, twenty-two. So, she decided it was time to get her hip replaced. 

“Not to say that was an  _ easy _ decision,” Susan added quickly. “It took maybe… two months? For her to finally go through with it? She… There was a lot of struggle and debate over identity and… And all that mess. But she went through it eventually.”

Carter took a moment to consider this.

“Needless to say,” Susan added, “we don’t have very good luck with Valentine’s Day in our family.”

“Wasn’t one of your children  _ born _ on Valentine’s Day?”

“ _ No, _ one of my children was born the day  _ after  _ Valentine’s Day,” Susan pointed out. “And if you couldn’t tell, that’s well practiced, because Charlie will bring that up  _ every _ time I say that.”

Carter chuckled and Susan grinned broadly. 

She had missed this. Being with these people. Being in this place. 

Susan glanced around, sighing deeply, and then frowned. 

“Where’s Suzie?”

Carter looked around with her and then shrugged.

“She’s probably around here somewhere. Maybe in the bathroom?” Carter offered. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, except this place is a magnet for disaster and people get beat up in bathrooms.”

Suzie was  _ not _ in the bathroom, but had wandered off to look around when she spotted a black, female doctor talking to a patient a few yards away from where she stood. She was tall and built like an athlete and very _ ,very _ familiar. Right down to the thick maroon headband holding back her braids. 

When the physician was done talking to her patient, Suzie walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, she raised her brow expectantly.  

“Can I help you?” 

“This may sound really weird weird…” Suzie said slowly. “But is there any chance your name is Rochelle?”

“Mm-hmm,” the woman replied, nodding. “Why? Do you need something from me?”

“Um… Well, my name is Suzie Lewis and I think you used to babysit me.”

Rochelle looked at her for a moment before her face broke out into a huge,shocked grin. She pulled Suzie into a big hug. 

“Oh my God,” she said, squeezing Suzie tight before letting her go and holding her at arm’s length. “You’re-you’re… You’re all grown up. How old are you now? Fifteen?”

“Thirteen,” Suzie replied. “ _ Almost _ fourteen.”

“Wow,” Rochelle said, unable to hide her delight. “Just.. wow.”

Suzie, uncomfortable under the intensity of Rochelle’s surprise, gave a shy shrug.

“Is your mom here? Or..” Rochelle pause, considering. “They’re  _ both _ your mom, aren’t they?”

Suzie nodded.

“I thought so,” Rochelle said, nodding contemplatively. Then, she lit up again. “Well, I’d love to see them.”

Suzie led her back over to where Susan and Carter had been talking. Kerry and Charlie had returned and had joined the former in trying to figure out where Suzie had gotten to.

When Susan spotted her, she first looked relieved and then exasperated.

“Where did you go?” Susan asked urgently.

“I was looking around,” Suzie replied with a shrug, “and I found a friend?”

Suzie pointed at Rochelle, who waved excitedly, her grin broad. Both Kerry and Susan’s mouths dropped open at once. 

“ _ Rochelle? _ ”

“You guys know the current Chief Resident?” Carter asked. 

“You’re the Chief Resident?” Susan asked. Her smile was nearly as broad as Rochelle’s. 

Rochelle nodded . Then, it clicked. 

“Wait,” Carter said slowly. “Were  _ they _ the ones you were talking about-”

“In my interview,” Rochelle finished. “Yeah.”

“Oh God,” Kerry said. “What did you say about us?”

“Well,” Carter began, looking between Kerry and Susan and Rochelle, “since Rochelle went to Wash U, she didn’t do her rotations with us, so we interviewed her before Match. And when we were asking her about why she wanted to go into emergency medicine, she said that she liked the idea of having to think on your feet and being prepared for anything, because you never knew what to expect.”

“And I said I learned that because I used to babysit for these two emergency physicians who I started charging an extra any  time they called me on short notice,” Rochelle continued. “And they did it so often that I made over a thousand dollars off of them.”

“Was it really over a thousand dollars?” Susan said in amazement.

“One thousand two hundred and sixty,” Kerry stated. When Susan looked at her, she shrugged. “I did the math.”

“ _ God _ , you’re expensive,” Susan said, shaking her head. 

“ _ Me _ ? It was  _ both _ of us.”

“ _ Actually _ , Dr. Weaver... I did the math too,” Rochelle gave them both a sheepish smile. “And Dr. Lewis was only late about seven times.”

Kerry scoffed and rolled her eyes but Susan just smiled and stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Rochelle’s shoulder.

“Oh, Rochelle... I’ve missed you so much.”

Kerry shook her head, ready to defend herself, when she felt a little hand take hers. 

She glanced down to see Charlie close by her leg. One hand held hers while the other rubbed back and forth across her mouth, which she did when she was tired in place of sucking her thumb.

Susan, Rochelle, and Carter were talking when Kerry caught her eye. She raised her brow and then nodded down at Charlie. Susan followed the nod down to Charlie before she glanced back up at Kerry and nodded.

“Well,” she said, turning back to Carter and Rochelle. “It was really wonderful to see you both, but I think we need to get headed back to the hotel.  _ But _ … we’ll be around for a couple days, so we should definitely get dinner.”

Both Carter and Rochelle nodded before Susan hugged them each again. Charlie released Kerry’s hand long enough to let her give hugs too and soon Susan was ushering them all out the ambulance bay doors. 

Kerry, Charlie in hand and Suzie not far behind her, led the way out but something stopped Susan just before she reached the street. 

She paused, the reflection of the stars in the hospital windows holding her in her spot for a moment. 

It was honestly kind of… pretty, which she knew was not a word she often thought of when she thought of County. It was almost as if, in reflecting the night sky, the giant building in front of her was not a place of sickness and injury, but rather the center of hope and healing it was always touted to be. 

It made her think of how differently she saw the ER when she was promoted to an attending. 

Right before her first shift after her promotion, Mark had pulled her aside right before she stepped out of the lounge and told her that, now that she was one of the senior doctors, the staff would look to her for leadership and guidance. 

The weight of his words wouldn’t sink in until much later, but she did see the ER in a whole different light as soon as the shift started. And the longer she worked there, the more she felt the responsibility that came with those words.

It was up to  _ her _ how she approached every day. No matter what happened, no matter how crazy or ridiculous or just how flat out unexpected the circumstances seemed, the others would look to her to get them through it.  _ She _ set the expectation.

She set the tone.

“Look! Look! You can see Orion’s Belt!” 

“It’s not Orion’s Belt,” Suzie said, rolling her eyes. “Charlie, we’re in the city. There’s no stars in the city.”

“Cincinnati is a city and there’s stars  _ there _ ,” Charlie replied, sticking her tongue out at Suzie.

“Girls, please,” Kerry said, instinctively stepping in between them.

She looked at Susan, who was still paused behind them, her gaze fixed on County. 

“Are you coming, Dr. Lewis?”

At the sound of her name, Susan turned. 

Charlie was pointing up at the sky and Suzie, though her arms were still folded and her expression bored, was nevertheless glancing skyward as well. Kerry stood in between them, the grey of her coat nearly blending in with the pavement behind her, but the white of the blazer underneath yellow in the light of the street lamp.

Susan smiled and glanced back at the hospital once more.

That place had given and taken so much from her. Things she expected to gain but lost. Things she expect to lose but found. Good things. Bad things. Expected things. Unexpected things.

A long time ago, in another life it felt like, she had hated those unexpected things: the times when things went south in a trauma when there was no reason for them to do so or when certain bossy redheads became Chief Resident instead of one of her friends or even when her sister disappeared  at a moment’s notice and left her infant niece in her care. 

A long time ago, she hated all of it. She wished it could be different and that those unexpected things had never happened. 

How glad she was now that they didn’t. 

Because if there had been anything that Susan had grown sure of over the years, it was that those things that ended up most important in her life often happened under the most unexpected of circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I set out to write   
>  _  
>  “Unexpected Circumstances”  
>  _  
>  , I had one thought in mind: what would have happened if Susan Lewis had gotten custody of her niece at the end of Season 2?
> 
>  
> 
> This thought led to another thought: If Kerry Weaver, who had been adopted at birth but who did not get along with Susan Lewis   
>  _  
>  saw   
>  _  
>  Susan adopt her niece, how would that change things between them?
> 
>  
> 
> And this led to wondering what would happen if Susan needed a cheaper place to live which led to thinking of Kerry renting out her basement which led to another thought and another thought and so on and so forth. And as I had each of those thoughts, the story began to unfold. 
> 
>  
> 
> Even as the author, I was not expecting this story to take the turns it did. But when it did take those turns, I looked back to those small details, to those thoughts that had built on each other. The little thoughts and details turned into big thoughts and details.
> 
>  
> 
> When I set out to write this piece, I did not think about the fact that, if Susan had adopted Suzie, no one would have been there to help Chloe when she overdosed in Season 8. I had thought of the adoption only in terms of how it would change Susan and Suzie’s life,   
>  _  
>  not  
>  _  
>  how it would ultimately change Chloe’s.
> 
>  
> 
> In other words, I titled a story   
>  _  
>  “Unexpected Circumstances”   
>  _  
>  thinking only about the unexpected friendship-turned-romance between Susan and Kerry, only to be floored later on when I had to face the unexpected circumstances my seemingly small plot decision had created. 
> 
>  
> 
>  Ironic, yes? Or, to summarize it in the way I had done in the story itself: unexpected circumstances indeed. 
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, I know the last line of the fic was a bit cheesy, but I stand by it. 
> 
>  
> 
> This story came to me on a whim back in April and when I started it, though I knew I wanted it to eventually result in romance, I made myself  _try_ and stick to canon as much as I could and thus, not make a romantic relationship take place. That was, at least, until I told the idea to one of my friends who lists  _ER_ as their favorite show ever and they got  _very_ excited at the prospect of a Susan/Kerry romance. 
> 
>  
> 
> After that, I just went for it.   
>  And here we are, over 125,000 words later. This works outpaces my previous novel-length fic by almost thirty thousand words. 
> 
>  
> 
> I am so incredibly appreciative to each and every one of you for reading this story. Thank you. Really. And thank you double for anyone who left kudos or comments. Trust me, I keep them in my inbox and look at them several times a day.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you. And, there's a good chance I might post some additional short things and headcanons on Tumblr. So, if you're interested, you can find me there under the same username.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so incredibly much. Thought it may sound like a bad joke, this really took off in an unexpected direction and I couldn't be happier about it. 


End file.
